Text: Luke:23:1-12
Are you old enough to remember a band known as The Animals singing, "I'm just a soul whose intentions are good--O, Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood!" Being in a position in which others just don't get it with regard to who and what we are is not a comfortable feeling. When those "others" hold our fate in their hands, the feeling is truly despairing.
Is that what Jesus was experiencing as he was unceremoniously shuttled from the Jewish council to Pilate, to Herod, then back again to Pilate? And at the end of the day, having the latter person without any greater clue to Jesus' identity than he had at the beginning surely did not make things easier. Then again, how could he have understood? Pilate's concern was political stability; Jesus had been delivered to him because of an alleged insurrectionist intent, fostered by a claim to be a king. On one hand, the charge was true; yet Pilate saw enough to know that this was not any kind of kingship that might pose the sort of political threat any Roman governor needed to fear.
Then there was Herod, who ruled over a mere third of the territory his father had once claimed. He, too, was fascinated by what he had heard of Jesus; he wanted a magic show. He, likewise, saw no political trouble brewing from Jesus. When no show was forthcoming, he joined his lowlife mockery of a militia in taunting the misconstrued Son of Man.
Our lives can be turned upside down for short or long periods of time when the perception of who we are does not match what we know to be true of ourselves. It happens in school, at work, in public life, even in our churches. Most of the time we have enough opportunity to have the truth emerge; sometimes we do not and fail to realize certain goals and possibilities because of it. For younger people in our culture, for whom identity formation is a real issue, the results of being misunderstood can be devastating. Once again, the one who bore our sorrows has been to this lonely, tenuous place in life. When we fail to see the humanity of Jesus in the days immediately prior to his death, we fail to find the one who longs to walk beside us in all circumstances with a knowing, comforting, and even sustaining way. Regardless of what others mistakenly think they know about us.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Jesus Knows Rejection
Text: Luke 22:63-71
There are times in life in which everything we have invested in a given endeavor just plain fails. It's not a matter of being misunderstood; those who rejected us knew full well what we were doing and either didn't care about or rejected the entire project. Perhaps they were firmly and actively opposed to it.
Jesus had known the acceptance and approval of the crowds for much of his public life. Yes, there had been a few confrontations along the way, but in the writing of the gospel accounts we have a generally favorable attitude toward Jesus from most of the people who had gone out of their way to see and hear him.
It was one thing for Jesus to know that the events of his last week in Jerusalem would happen; it must have been quite another to actually, as a complete human being, experience the physical, psychological, and emotional turmoil those events would bring. Once he was out of the sight of any of his close followers, the abuse began in earnest. It started with the guards. A hardened bunch, calloused as a needed defense for their psychological survival, they beat him and had a joking time while doing it.
Then came the decisive rejection. The ones in charge of the people he came to redeem--his own beloved people--soundly denied his mission and his very being. When he affirmed his identity as the one who would sit at the right hand of God, the case against him was closed, even though, of course, he was speaking the truth.
Being in the right and knowing it to be so is not a guarantee of acceptance in our fallen world. This is especially so in regard to the contemporary culture's attitude toward Christian truth claims, but it occurs in other areas of life as well. It could be legal, relational, or work related; in any of these areas we could be righteous and be rejected nonetheless, perhaps at great cost. When this occurs, pray to the Christ who once stood where you now stand, in confidence that you will stand one day where he now reigns and where he awaits with full acceptance.
There are times in life in which everything we have invested in a given endeavor just plain fails. It's not a matter of being misunderstood; those who rejected us knew full well what we were doing and either didn't care about or rejected the entire project. Perhaps they were firmly and actively opposed to it.
Jesus had known the acceptance and approval of the crowds for much of his public life. Yes, there had been a few confrontations along the way, but in the writing of the gospel accounts we have a generally favorable attitude toward Jesus from most of the people who had gone out of their way to see and hear him.
It was one thing for Jesus to know that the events of his last week in Jerusalem would happen; it must have been quite another to actually, as a complete human being, experience the physical, psychological, and emotional turmoil those events would bring. Once he was out of the sight of any of his close followers, the abuse began in earnest. It started with the guards. A hardened bunch, calloused as a needed defense for their psychological survival, they beat him and had a joking time while doing it.
Then came the decisive rejection. The ones in charge of the people he came to redeem--his own beloved people--soundly denied his mission and his very being. When he affirmed his identity as the one who would sit at the right hand of God, the case against him was closed, even though, of course, he was speaking the truth.
Being in the right and knowing it to be so is not a guarantee of acceptance in our fallen world. This is especially so in regard to the contemporary culture's attitude toward Christian truth claims, but it occurs in other areas of life as well. It could be legal, relational, or work related; in any of these areas we could be righteous and be rejected nonetheless, perhaps at great cost. When this occurs, pray to the Christ who once stood where you now stand, in confidence that you will stand one day where he now reigns and where he awaits with full acceptance.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Jesus Knows Betrayal
Text: Luke 22:47-65
Two betrayals in one night--talk about having trouble with faithful friends. The first was overt; the second was betrayal by denial. Both had been predicted by Jesus himself.
In the words of an old gospel hymn, "He bore our sins and our sorrows; he made them his very own." Yes, our sorrows, of many hues of faded color. Sorrows inevitably find their way into our lives, usually uninvited, always at inopportune moments; sometimes they stay but a while, but others threaten to take up permanent residence, with the capacity to destroy a life.
The feeling of betrayal is a particularly intense form of sorrow for many people. It goes a step beyond abandonment, in that someone not only deprives us of their expected presence, but actively, deliberately contributes to our harm. For those who have been made to walk its path, betrayal opens the way to bitterness, skepticism, and an inability to trust, which has the further result of closing one's mind and spirit, trapping all manor of thoughts within.
From the side of the betrayer, there is the possibility of shame, guilt, remorse, and withdrawal. Often, the guilty party recognizes the terrible nature of what has been done, but the shame is so heavy there is insufficient strength to face the betrayed to seek forgiveness. So many times, both lives are seriously fractured.
The one thing we cannot say to Christ is, "You don't know what it's like." And because he does know what it's like he was, in all his suffering, made to be perfectly fitting to be our advocate a well as our example. He is also there with an invitation to restoration when we are the guilty party. Both Judas and Peter were told before their acts were committed what would take place. To Peter he even gave a signal to listen for; and when he heard it, it was the sound of grace, inviting him to repentance even in the moment of his sin. The question to consider today is who in our lives may need to know the sound of grace from us? How will we let them hear it?
Two betrayals in one night--talk about having trouble with faithful friends. The first was overt; the second was betrayal by denial. Both had been predicted by Jesus himself.
In the words of an old gospel hymn, "He bore our sins and our sorrows; he made them his very own." Yes, our sorrows, of many hues of faded color. Sorrows inevitably find their way into our lives, usually uninvited, always at inopportune moments; sometimes they stay but a while, but others threaten to take up permanent residence, with the capacity to destroy a life.
The feeling of betrayal is a particularly intense form of sorrow for many people. It goes a step beyond abandonment, in that someone not only deprives us of their expected presence, but actively, deliberately contributes to our harm. For those who have been made to walk its path, betrayal opens the way to bitterness, skepticism, and an inability to trust, which has the further result of closing one's mind and spirit, trapping all manor of thoughts within.
From the side of the betrayer, there is the possibility of shame, guilt, remorse, and withdrawal. Often, the guilty party recognizes the terrible nature of what has been done, but the shame is so heavy there is insufficient strength to face the betrayed to seek forgiveness. So many times, both lives are seriously fractured.
The one thing we cannot say to Christ is, "You don't know what it's like." And because he does know what it's like he was, in all his suffering, made to be perfectly fitting to be our advocate a well as our example. He is also there with an invitation to restoration when we are the guilty party. Both Judas and Peter were told before their acts were committed what would take place. To Peter he even gave a signal to listen for; and when he heard it, it was the sound of grace, inviting him to repentance even in the moment of his sin. The question to consider today is who in our lives may need to know the sound of grace from us? How will we let them hear it?
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Jesus Knows Abandonment
Text: Luke 22:39-46
Today begins a look at the final week of Jesus' life before the crucifixion. During these days the focus of the thoughts in this series will turn to the theme of Jesus knowing our pain--because he has experienced. Heb, 2:14-18 tells us that he was made like us in all things. These final days will highlight the extent to which is true.
No one likes the feeling of being abandoned--left alone with none to share either burden or responsibility. Tragically, we see all too many examples of this in today's world as parents abandon children or one another, as companies leave communities which relied upon them for employment and vitality, and as trusted friends walk away when they are most needed. Some people feel that the church has abandoned them.
These are very difficult times of life to experience. Things which were counted on have to be rethought; people we believed in may not be present at all, meaning either something will remain undone or we will need to find another to take on the role or responsibility. When we hear someone tell us they will pray for us, but we find that this has never happened, we are distraught. Jesus himself knew very well what abandonment feels like.
Imagine Jesus, knowing that there was a horrible death awaiting him. Then imagine finding the ones he trusted most to pray with him, for him, and finding them asleep. There would be no dramatic rescue operation; he was going to suffer and die. "Couldn't you guys pray for an hour?" Some burden bearing!
Has there been an abandonment in your life that causes great suffering, even though it may have happened many years ago? One thing we can be sure of is that Christ knows what it is like. He had every reason to expect the support of his closest friends. Yet that support did not come. When we tell him about our experiences, he will cry and share that pain because he's known it first hand. So regardless of how old the wound may be, or how it continues to plague ongoing relationships, our Lord was prepared to hear about them by the things he suffered.
Today begins a look at the final week of Jesus' life before the crucifixion. During these days the focus of the thoughts in this series will turn to the theme of Jesus knowing our pain--because he has experienced. Heb, 2:14-18 tells us that he was made like us in all things. These final days will highlight the extent to which is true.
No one likes the feeling of being abandoned--left alone with none to share either burden or responsibility. Tragically, we see all too many examples of this in today's world as parents abandon children or one another, as companies leave communities which relied upon them for employment and vitality, and as trusted friends walk away when they are most needed. Some people feel that the church has abandoned them.
These are very difficult times of life to experience. Things which were counted on have to be rethought; people we believed in may not be present at all, meaning either something will remain undone or we will need to find another to take on the role or responsibility. When we hear someone tell us they will pray for us, but we find that this has never happened, we are distraught. Jesus himself knew very well what abandonment feels like.
Imagine Jesus, knowing that there was a horrible death awaiting him. Then imagine finding the ones he trusted most to pray with him, for him, and finding them asleep. There would be no dramatic rescue operation; he was going to suffer and die. "Couldn't you guys pray for an hour?" Some burden bearing!
Has there been an abandonment in your life that causes great suffering, even though it may have happened many years ago? One thing we can be sure of is that Christ knows what it is like. He had every reason to expect the support of his closest friends. Yet that support did not come. When we tell him about our experiences, he will cry and share that pain because he's known it first hand. So regardless of how old the wound may be, or how it continues to plague ongoing relationships, our Lord was prepared to hear about them by the things he suffered.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Here's Looking at You (and Me)
Text: Luke 22:34-38
The text for today says some of the most amazing things about the disciples of Jesus; it says some very unflattering things as well.
The Passover meal had concluded in an unceremonious fashion--the announcement of a traitor in their midst. The conversation moved from who it might be to betray Jesus to who among the group was the most important of them. Quite a turnaround. From a concern not over the fate of the one who was going to be betrayed but over who the betrayer might be, to a concern over which of them might take over the mantel of leadership.
One might well suppose that in the role of Jesus, the normal response to such behavior would be to scream, "What about me?! Does anyone care what's going to happen to me?!" Instead of this, however, he used the occasion to underscore the difference between his kingdom and those kingdoms we're familiar with under human ideals. He then lauded them for standing by him while he engaged in so many contentious incidents with all manor of leadership. In fact, he continued, they would be the ones to be served when the fullness of the kingdom arrived. No sooner had he affirmed them, however, than he turned to Simon Peter and announced over his protests the denial he was about to utter just hours hence.
We inherit so much along with the original followers of Jesus. We are prone to look after our standing relative to others, even in the context of doing God's work. We are subject to conditions under which we will deny our Lord. We lose sight of him at times in the interest of these and other matters. At the same time, Jesus affirms our status and our share in the inheritance; he prays for us even as we fail so that we, like Peter, will be sifted through success and failure in such a way as to strengthen our brothers and sisters. He reminds us of where he has already taken us and of the way he provided for us there.
It is good for us to be reminded of what we are, as well as of what he is making us to become.
The text for today says some of the most amazing things about the disciples of Jesus; it says some very unflattering things as well.
The Passover meal had concluded in an unceremonious fashion--the announcement of a traitor in their midst. The conversation moved from who it might be to betray Jesus to who among the group was the most important of them. Quite a turnaround. From a concern not over the fate of the one who was going to be betrayed but over who the betrayer might be, to a concern over which of them might take over the mantel of leadership.
One might well suppose that in the role of Jesus, the normal response to such behavior would be to scream, "What about me?! Does anyone care what's going to happen to me?!" Instead of this, however, he used the occasion to underscore the difference between his kingdom and those kingdoms we're familiar with under human ideals. He then lauded them for standing by him while he engaged in so many contentious incidents with all manor of leadership. In fact, he continued, they would be the ones to be served when the fullness of the kingdom arrived. No sooner had he affirmed them, however, than he turned to Simon Peter and announced over his protests the denial he was about to utter just hours hence.
We inherit so much along with the original followers of Jesus. We are prone to look after our standing relative to others, even in the context of doing God's work. We are subject to conditions under which we will deny our Lord. We lose sight of him at times in the interest of these and other matters. At the same time, Jesus affirms our status and our share in the inheritance; he prays for us even as we fail so that we, like Peter, will be sifted through success and failure in such a way as to strengthen our brothers and sisters. He reminds us of where he has already taken us and of the way he provided for us there.
It is good for us to be reminded of what we are, as well as of what he is making us to become.
Friday, March 26, 2010
So Much to Say
Text: Luke 22:14-23
It would be difficult to say something about today's text that hasn't been said before. It is not my intent to do so. What strikes me most as I reread the passage yet again is how unspectacular the occasion is as presented.
It seems to pass very quickly, though of course it unfolded over more time than is represented by Luke. But here we have a report that tells us merely that Jesus opened the evening observance of Passover by expressing that it was important to him to celebrate the meal with his disciples, then gave them a cup of wine with a few words spoken confirming that he would not do so again; he broke bread, said something about it being (or representing?) his body. From there he again offered a cup of wine, this time adding the words indicating that it represented a new covenant.
Those last words are momentous, to say the very least. We have heard them repeated virtually every time we have observed Holy Communion. Yet in the context of the chapter, he has no sooner spoken these words than Jesus refers to a betrayal by one of the gathered members. Immediately, they begin a discussion about who that betrayer might be. No reflection on the words spoken, no questions regarding how the bread and wine specifically related to the body broken and blood shed. And certainly no impact on the gathered friends.
The words of Christ to us are often like that. The immediate impact may be relatively minor; but in the course of time, we reflect on them and take them to heart. I'm sure this event was recalled by the disciples with far more profound effect after all the events of the crucifixion and resurrection had occurred. It is good for us as well, though we come to this scene knowing the full outcome, to take the words of the Last Supper with us. His body broken; His blood poured out. These are realities which never lose their power to impact people who come to his table, if we will allow them to. Just as the disciples returned to them in the ensuing years, we should also go back regularly to understand our Lord, and in that light to understand ourselves the better--and our need for his gracious act explained that night.
It would be difficult to say something about today's text that hasn't been said before. It is not my intent to do so. What strikes me most as I reread the passage yet again is how unspectacular the occasion is as presented.
It seems to pass very quickly, though of course it unfolded over more time than is represented by Luke. But here we have a report that tells us merely that Jesus opened the evening observance of Passover by expressing that it was important to him to celebrate the meal with his disciples, then gave them a cup of wine with a few words spoken confirming that he would not do so again; he broke bread, said something about it being (or representing?) his body. From there he again offered a cup of wine, this time adding the words indicating that it represented a new covenant.
Those last words are momentous, to say the very least. We have heard them repeated virtually every time we have observed Holy Communion. Yet in the context of the chapter, he has no sooner spoken these words than Jesus refers to a betrayal by one of the gathered members. Immediately, they begin a discussion about who that betrayer might be. No reflection on the words spoken, no questions regarding how the bread and wine specifically related to the body broken and blood shed. And certainly no impact on the gathered friends.
The words of Christ to us are often like that. The immediate impact may be relatively minor; but in the course of time, we reflect on them and take them to heart. I'm sure this event was recalled by the disciples with far more profound effect after all the events of the crucifixion and resurrection had occurred. It is good for us as well, though we come to this scene knowing the full outcome, to take the words of the Last Supper with us. His body broken; His blood poured out. These are realities which never lose their power to impact people who come to his table, if we will allow them to. Just as the disciples returned to them in the ensuing years, we should also go back regularly to understand our Lord, and in that light to understand ourselves the better--and our need for his gracious act explained that night.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Get Ready for What?
Text: Luke 22:7-13
Throughout this series we have encountered people very much like us. In spite of the years, the knowledge of the world, the many generations that have passed, the basic questions about our relationship to God and to other persons have not substantially changed. Nor have the need for faith or the difficulty of maintaining it.
It was apparently not unusual for Jesus to give instructions to an advance team from his entourage. It is likely that Peter and John had gone on numerous such assignments, most of which were probably mundane; some, like the one to prepare the Passover in an "upper room," had enough of the unusual to keep things interesting. But little could they imagine all that would transpire in the next couple of days, beginning with the observance with which they were immediately concerned.
It is all too commonplace for Christians through the ages to view the disciples prior to the resurrection, except for rare occasions, as just a step or two above the Keystone Cops of silent movie days. They always seemed to miss what we think should have been obvious, often seemed to ask the wrong questions, and generally be oblivious to Jesus' person and purpose. Such as assessment, of course, is terribly wrong. Even before their experience at Pentecost, these were men cherished by their Lord, under training the intensity of which would only later be seen.
Go and prepare the Passover. Do it in this way; do it in this place; speak to this person; say this. Instructions given; instructions followed. Without question, without the need to know the role this assignment would play in any larger drama. They simply obeyed the Lord. There is a timely lesson in this for all of us. Today we want to know just what piece of the action we are participating in; then we deem it our prerogative to accept or decline what's been given for us to do, perhaps even having the audacity to propose an alternative to accomplish what the Lord is "really" after. Not so the disciples. And not so for those who purpose to follow Jesus today or any day. He who is faithful in the little will be faithful in much. May each of us be included among the faithful and obedient.
Throughout this series we have encountered people very much like us. In spite of the years, the knowledge of the world, the many generations that have passed, the basic questions about our relationship to God and to other persons have not substantially changed. Nor have the need for faith or the difficulty of maintaining it.
It was apparently not unusual for Jesus to give instructions to an advance team from his entourage. It is likely that Peter and John had gone on numerous such assignments, most of which were probably mundane; some, like the one to prepare the Passover in an "upper room," had enough of the unusual to keep things interesting. But little could they imagine all that would transpire in the next couple of days, beginning with the observance with which they were immediately concerned.
It is all too commonplace for Christians through the ages to view the disciples prior to the resurrection, except for rare occasions, as just a step or two above the Keystone Cops of silent movie days. They always seemed to miss what we think should have been obvious, often seemed to ask the wrong questions, and generally be oblivious to Jesus' person and purpose. Such as assessment, of course, is terribly wrong. Even before their experience at Pentecost, these were men cherished by their Lord, under training the intensity of which would only later be seen.
Go and prepare the Passover. Do it in this way; do it in this place; speak to this person; say this. Instructions given; instructions followed. Without question, without the need to know the role this assignment would play in any larger drama. They simply obeyed the Lord. There is a timely lesson in this for all of us. Today we want to know just what piece of the action we are participating in; then we deem it our prerogative to accept or decline what's been given for us to do, perhaps even having the audacity to propose an alternative to accomplish what the Lord is "really" after. Not so the disciples. And not so for those who purpose to follow Jesus today or any day. He who is faithful in the little will be faithful in much. May each of us be included among the faithful and obedient.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Gone to the Dark Side
Text: Luke 22:1-6
Do people generally turn away from a chosen path all of a sudden, or is there a pathway which, though clearly discernible in hindsight, was faintly manifesting itself over a period of time?
The motives of Judas have been speculated upon frequently. He might have grown weary of the pace with which Jesus was going about this kingdom business, or may have concluded that it wasn't going to happen after all and Judas would force his hand. Or maybe he had been found out by Jesus in his theft from the money box. But it seems unlikely that he made a sudden turn against Jesus which did not have a history to it.
Most, if not all of us, have had experiences in which we found ourselves to have denied our knowledge of Jesus in an insufficiently guarded moment. It's an awful feeling when we recognize what has happened. This, however, was not of that kind. This was premeditated and deliberate turning against the Lord for his downfall. He took risk himself in approaching the council; he plotted with them, knowing they would take him into custody. Perhaps he had no notion that they intended to kill Jesus. But he accepted payment for his plan and later carried it out. This sort of sequence does not result from a spur of the moment disappointment.
Scholars and pastors, lay leaders and average Christians alike have been known to deny the faith and turn against Christ. They provide what they believe to be valuable information to discredit the faith and the Lord in whom it is centered. Seldom, if ever, do they intend such a course in the beginning. But something changes, maybe a disappointment in they way God does or does not order the affairs and circumstances of life, maybe a refusal to disavow a sinful habit or attitude. And instead of choosing to confide in the Lord himself or one of the brothers in whose company we serve and worship, one takes the frustrations to those all too eager to receive the news that faith has failed. When we cannot comprehend the work of God we must not conclude in anger that He is not in fact at work. We can and must take all doubts to him directly before they grow into the bitterness which does not ruin Jesus but may destroy our own souls.
Do people generally turn away from a chosen path all of a sudden, or is there a pathway which, though clearly discernible in hindsight, was faintly manifesting itself over a period of time?
The motives of Judas have been speculated upon frequently. He might have grown weary of the pace with which Jesus was going about this kingdom business, or may have concluded that it wasn't going to happen after all and Judas would force his hand. Or maybe he had been found out by Jesus in his theft from the money box. But it seems unlikely that he made a sudden turn against Jesus which did not have a history to it.
Most, if not all of us, have had experiences in which we found ourselves to have denied our knowledge of Jesus in an insufficiently guarded moment. It's an awful feeling when we recognize what has happened. This, however, was not of that kind. This was premeditated and deliberate turning against the Lord for his downfall. He took risk himself in approaching the council; he plotted with them, knowing they would take him into custody. Perhaps he had no notion that they intended to kill Jesus. But he accepted payment for his plan and later carried it out. This sort of sequence does not result from a spur of the moment disappointment.
Scholars and pastors, lay leaders and average Christians alike have been known to deny the faith and turn against Christ. They provide what they believe to be valuable information to discredit the faith and the Lord in whom it is centered. Seldom, if ever, do they intend such a course in the beginning. But something changes, maybe a disappointment in they way God does or does not order the affairs and circumstances of life, maybe a refusal to disavow a sinful habit or attitude. And instead of choosing to confide in the Lord himself or one of the brothers in whose company we serve and worship, one takes the frustrations to those all too eager to receive the news that faith has failed. When we cannot comprehend the work of God we must not conclude in anger that He is not in fact at work. We can and must take all doubts to him directly before they grow into the bitterness which does not ruin Jesus but may destroy our own souls.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
The One Sure Thing
Text: Luke 21:25-38
While some scholars move the meaning of Jesus' words here from the near future of Jerusalem to a much later apocalyptic reference, it seems most likely to others that the time frame does not change. The difficulties then regard the meaning of the tossing seas and shaking heavenly bodies and the manner of the Son of Man's appearing. But on either interpretation the coming of a new order of things is assured by Jesus.
The words which follow are to be heeded by every generation of believers and seekers. "Be careful." The danger of hearts being weighed down either by careless living or by the pressing concerns of life in the world is ever with us. We all need the reminders that there is a redemption from this world, that our final fulfillment is not to be found here and now. We draw ultimate conclusions from less than ultimate things and events. It is all too often the case that the things which are most certainly temporal elicit the strongest emotional response, betraying the true orientation of our hearts and minds.
Be watching; be praying. We've heard it all before. Yet sometimes even our praying can be focused far too much on the very things by which we should not be weighed down. Yes, God cares about our family events, our business decisions, our purchases, our living quarters, our . . .. Before we know it our prayer list can show that we are looking up not for our redemption, but for our comfort or success in this life. And there is no sure thing to be found therein.
There may be a partial solution referenced in the closing portions of today's text. Coming to him daily, not to address him as much as to be addressed and taught by him, to be re-oriented in our thinking by the truth about the world and about ourselves and our true end. These can only be found in listening to him daily in the temple of the Holy Spirit. He is the only sure thing we can know in this life, with all the possibilities for joy and pain, beauty and tragedy, gain and loss that comprise it affords. Let us focus today and tomorrow on that one sure thing and allow our coming redemption in Christ to redirect our use of all the bane and blessing this world has to offer.
While some scholars move the meaning of Jesus' words here from the near future of Jerusalem to a much later apocalyptic reference, it seems most likely to others that the time frame does not change. The difficulties then regard the meaning of the tossing seas and shaking heavenly bodies and the manner of the Son of Man's appearing. But on either interpretation the coming of a new order of things is assured by Jesus.
The words which follow are to be heeded by every generation of believers and seekers. "Be careful." The danger of hearts being weighed down either by careless living or by the pressing concerns of life in the world is ever with us. We all need the reminders that there is a redemption from this world, that our final fulfillment is not to be found here and now. We draw ultimate conclusions from less than ultimate things and events. It is all too often the case that the things which are most certainly temporal elicit the strongest emotional response, betraying the true orientation of our hearts and minds.
Be watching; be praying. We've heard it all before. Yet sometimes even our praying can be focused far too much on the very things by which we should not be weighed down. Yes, God cares about our family events, our business decisions, our purchases, our living quarters, our . . .. Before we know it our prayer list can show that we are looking up not for our redemption, but for our comfort or success in this life. And there is no sure thing to be found therein.
There may be a partial solution referenced in the closing portions of today's text. Coming to him daily, not to address him as much as to be addressed and taught by him, to be re-oriented in our thinking by the truth about the world and about ourselves and our true end. These can only be found in listening to him daily in the temple of the Holy Spirit. He is the only sure thing we can know in this life, with all the possibilities for joy and pain, beauty and tragedy, gain and loss that comprise it affords. Let us focus today and tomorrow on that one sure thing and allow our coming redemption in Christ to redirect our use of all the bane and blessing this world has to offer.
Monday, March 22, 2010
"What's Going to Happen?"
Text: Luke 21:5-24
It seems our age is not unique in its fascination with apocalyptic scenarios. It has happened throughout history, and now there is significant interest in ancient Mayan lore, centering on predictions of the year 2012 as the end of the world.
Christians have always been especially prone to speculation, not least because of what Jesus himself had to say about the time when judgment would come and God's rule would be established forever. The disciples themselves had such interest, in great measure because Jesus had been making predictions of the destruction of the Temple, which for them was certainly a signal that the eschaton would be arriving in short order.
When Jesus responded to their questions concerning the timing of events, he answered in a way that is difficult to separate from the events at the end of the seventh decade. History looks back on those events, noting that most of what Jesus predicted was recorded 35-40 years later. Jerusalem was indeed trampled by the Gentiles (Romans); the Temple itself had been destroyed. The picture Jesus paints of life in those days is not a pretty one.
What is in this passage for us? We're far removed from that time and place. But not from the fact that God does bring judgment to bear, does call peoples to account, does allow great suffering to occur in the process. As a culture we have allowed ourselves to believe that God's role, if He even exists, is to protect and bless, not to judge and leave people to the consequences of their choices. In the process, there are repeated warnings to stand firm, to pray, to be careful of how we act in moments of crisis because there is a very real danger of being dissuaded from the kingdom under threat.
We can make no mistake in this: God is to be feared. Yes, he loves those who are His own; but some may walk through the fire on their way to His rest, even while others find griefs of all kinds. Remain close enough to Him to be ablse to reach out should the day of trouble and affliction land upon us.
It seems our age is not unique in its fascination with apocalyptic scenarios. It has happened throughout history, and now there is significant interest in ancient Mayan lore, centering on predictions of the year 2012 as the end of the world.
Christians have always been especially prone to speculation, not least because of what Jesus himself had to say about the time when judgment would come and God's rule would be established forever. The disciples themselves had such interest, in great measure because Jesus had been making predictions of the destruction of the Temple, which for them was certainly a signal that the eschaton would be arriving in short order.
When Jesus responded to their questions concerning the timing of events, he answered in a way that is difficult to separate from the events at the end of the seventh decade. History looks back on those events, noting that most of what Jesus predicted was recorded 35-40 years later. Jerusalem was indeed trampled by the Gentiles (Romans); the Temple itself had been destroyed. The picture Jesus paints of life in those days is not a pretty one.
What is in this passage for us? We're far removed from that time and place. But not from the fact that God does bring judgment to bear, does call peoples to account, does allow great suffering to occur in the process. As a culture we have allowed ourselves to believe that God's role, if He even exists, is to protect and bless, not to judge and leave people to the consequences of their choices. In the process, there are repeated warnings to stand firm, to pray, to be careful of how we act in moments of crisis because there is a very real danger of being dissuaded from the kingdom under threat.
We can make no mistake in this: God is to be feared. Yes, he loves those who are His own; but some may walk through the fire on their way to His rest, even while others find griefs of all kinds. Remain close enough to Him to be ablse to reach out should the day of trouble and affliction land upon us.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
A Gift
Text: Luke 21:1-4
Maybe it can be blamed on the division of the text into chapters and verses. Maybe it's because of the familiarity of the story. I confess that, for whatever reason, I had previously missed the obvious connection between the end of Luke 20 and the beginning of Chapter 21. The teachers of the law who loved being the public spectacle were hiding their true nature, so that it would not be noticed that they were cheating widows out of their property. Next scene: an impoverished widow. Is she one who had been victimized by the very practice just described?
We don't know the answer to that. Yet the point was probably not lost on the disciples as they did a bit of observation of people presenting their gifts at the Temple; nor should it be lost on us. We do not know what the circumstances are of the giver behind the gift. Nor do we always know the source of the gift which looks the larger. Though involuntarily, the widow may well have "given" when her property was confiscated.
People today give in so many ways which never find reward in the form of plaques and namesake buildings. They give of their labor to some wealthy business owners who then make a show of turning a portion over to the church of what should have gone as further compensation. They give with their hours to the work of the kingdom, feeding, comforting, caring, clothing, and guiding the steps of many an otherwise wayward soul. Though poor, or at least not wealthy, they give everything they have. And Jesus takes note.
There are two thoughts to carry with us as Lent's soul-searching time moves slowly toward its climax. One has to do with our assessments of what someone else gives--and the need to abandon them. The other has to do with our own honest appraisal of what we actually contribute, financially and otherwise, to the ongoing work of the kingdom of God. How is it that we put resource to our prayer that God's will be done--on earth? A poor widow knew her answer.
Maybe it can be blamed on the division of the text into chapters and verses. Maybe it's because of the familiarity of the story. I confess that, for whatever reason, I had previously missed the obvious connection between the end of Luke 20 and the beginning of Chapter 21. The teachers of the law who loved being the public spectacle were hiding their true nature, so that it would not be noticed that they were cheating widows out of their property. Next scene: an impoverished widow. Is she one who had been victimized by the very practice just described?
We don't know the answer to that. Yet the point was probably not lost on the disciples as they did a bit of observation of people presenting their gifts at the Temple; nor should it be lost on us. We do not know what the circumstances are of the giver behind the gift. Nor do we always know the source of the gift which looks the larger. Though involuntarily, the widow may well have "given" when her property was confiscated.
People today give in so many ways which never find reward in the form of plaques and namesake buildings. They give of their labor to some wealthy business owners who then make a show of turning a portion over to the church of what should have gone as further compensation. They give with their hours to the work of the kingdom, feeding, comforting, caring, clothing, and guiding the steps of many an otherwise wayward soul. Though poor, or at least not wealthy, they give everything they have. And Jesus takes note.
There are two thoughts to carry with us as Lent's soul-searching time moves slowly toward its climax. One has to do with our assessments of what someone else gives--and the need to abandon them. The other has to do with our own honest appraisal of what we actually contribute, financially and otherwise, to the ongoing work of the kingdom of God. How is it that we put resource to our prayer that God's will be done--on earth? A poor widow knew her answer.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Cover Up
Text: Luke 20:41-47
Time to change places. The present chapter of Luke began by relating the encounters that occurred one day while Jesus was teaching in the Temple (v.1). It consists of a series of questions designed to entrap Jesus in the presence of the many who had begun to follow him. Consistently he turned the questions to the exposure of the interrogator. After no one dared to ask him any more (v.40), Jesus began with his own question.
At first it may seem odd that Jesus would challenge the Davidic descent of the Messiah; it is quite well established in the Hebrew Scriptures, and even pointed to in the birth narratives in the gospel accounts. I suspect that this was a veiled reference to his claim that God was his true Father, not someone from David's line. The larger point is that the teachers before him did not know the Scriptures as well as they might--quite a jolting statement, especially after the embarrassment they had already endure.
This point itself, however, may have been made to serve the larger purpose of revealing the hearts of those who prided themselves in their position, using it as a means of personal gain. It seems there were some among the teachers who used their roles in such a way as to exalt the importance of their standing, cover themselves with the most impressive use of religious language and appearance, all the while cheating widows out of their property.
Do we recognize the pattern anywhere? Oh, perhaps not to the extent of theft from defenseless ones. But becoming so enamored of our positions in church and world that we can hide behind them, drawing the focus to the role that is played, how important it is, yet knowing full well in the quiet moments that these things are all we have--the buffed shell of a spiritual life that not only suffers from emptiness, but takes hold of others as useful only to the maintenance of the image. In the name of the Lord. The epitome of such behavior is present in those who end up denying and actually defying the gospel of Christ. But I doubt anyone reaches that point but by small increment. Let all who lead take time to check for any hint of these tendencies lest they lead us away.
Time to change places. The present chapter of Luke began by relating the encounters that occurred one day while Jesus was teaching in the Temple (v.1). It consists of a series of questions designed to entrap Jesus in the presence of the many who had begun to follow him. Consistently he turned the questions to the exposure of the interrogator. After no one dared to ask him any more (v.40), Jesus began with his own question.
At first it may seem odd that Jesus would challenge the Davidic descent of the Messiah; it is quite well established in the Hebrew Scriptures, and even pointed to in the birth narratives in the gospel accounts. I suspect that this was a veiled reference to his claim that God was his true Father, not someone from David's line. The larger point is that the teachers before him did not know the Scriptures as well as they might--quite a jolting statement, especially after the embarrassment they had already endure.
This point itself, however, may have been made to serve the larger purpose of revealing the hearts of those who prided themselves in their position, using it as a means of personal gain. It seems there were some among the teachers who used their roles in such a way as to exalt the importance of their standing, cover themselves with the most impressive use of religious language and appearance, all the while cheating widows out of their property.
Do we recognize the pattern anywhere? Oh, perhaps not to the extent of theft from defenseless ones. But becoming so enamored of our positions in church and world that we can hide behind them, drawing the focus to the role that is played, how important it is, yet knowing full well in the quiet moments that these things are all we have--the buffed shell of a spiritual life that not only suffers from emptiness, but takes hold of others as useful only to the maintenance of the image. In the name of the Lord. The epitome of such behavior is present in those who end up denying and actually defying the gospel of Christ. But I doubt anyone reaches that point but by small increment. Let all who lead take time to check for any hint of these tendencies lest they lead us away.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Questions and Answers
Text: Luke 20: 27-40
Collaboration between enemies only goes so far. The Pharisees and Sadducees had not liked each other for generations. They were representative of two approaches to Jewish Law and contemporary life--the liberals and the conservatives of the day. They could make common cause in their mutual dislike of Jesus. But cracks in the mortar were beginning to appear. The questioning of Jesus continues form one side and then the other, each applauding when Jesus would silence the other party with his wisdom.
Now it is the Sadducees' turn. Not believing in the resurrection from the dead, they presented a hypothetical case to Jesus which they thought would show the difficulties in holding to hope of life after death. The story is familiar. Of course, Jesus points out the mistaken assumptions upon which the case was built, and turns instead to the clear implications of what they know to be contained in the Scriptures. This incident again closes with words of approval from the opposite camp from those posing the question--but with the added note that no one dared to question the Lord further.
But we do, don't we? God's ability to turn away questions in a way which shows human folly and disbelief for what it is continues through all ages. The specifics of the questions change, the shape does not. Why is there evil in the world, why do some people always seem to be treated unfairly, what happens when we die, why isn't prayer answered more directly, who can be saved . . .? All of these occur in one form or another in the gospel accounts. Jesus answers them, but in the process questions us. The redirected question often centers not on what God is doing, but on what we are doing. God can be trusted to be true to His nature and character; have we learned to act in the same way?
Perhaps there's even a tie-in to the question of the day, that of the resurrection. No less than the Sadducees, contemporary people, including believers, have difficulty with the concept because life--as far as we can see it--always ends. We want to believe the promise; but to truly do so, that is, to actually and meaningfully believe it, entails the entrusting of all of our best efforts and energies to it, without hedging just in case it isn't so after all. Can we so invest? Today? In sure and certain hope?
Collaboration between enemies only goes so far. The Pharisees and Sadducees had not liked each other for generations. They were representative of two approaches to Jewish Law and contemporary life--the liberals and the conservatives of the day. They could make common cause in their mutual dislike of Jesus. But cracks in the mortar were beginning to appear. The questioning of Jesus continues form one side and then the other, each applauding when Jesus would silence the other party with his wisdom.
Now it is the Sadducees' turn. Not believing in the resurrection from the dead, they presented a hypothetical case to Jesus which they thought would show the difficulties in holding to hope of life after death. The story is familiar. Of course, Jesus points out the mistaken assumptions upon which the case was built, and turns instead to the clear implications of what they know to be contained in the Scriptures. This incident again closes with words of approval from the opposite camp from those posing the question--but with the added note that no one dared to question the Lord further.
But we do, don't we? God's ability to turn away questions in a way which shows human folly and disbelief for what it is continues through all ages. The specifics of the questions change, the shape does not. Why is there evil in the world, why do some people always seem to be treated unfairly, what happens when we die, why isn't prayer answered more directly, who can be saved . . .? All of these occur in one form or another in the gospel accounts. Jesus answers them, but in the process questions us. The redirected question often centers not on what God is doing, but on what we are doing. God can be trusted to be true to His nature and character; have we learned to act in the same way?
Perhaps there's even a tie-in to the question of the day, that of the resurrection. No less than the Sadducees, contemporary people, including believers, have difficulty with the concept because life--as far as we can see it--always ends. We want to believe the promise; but to truly do so, that is, to actually and meaningfully believe it, entails the entrusting of all of our best efforts and energies to it, without hedging just in case it isn't so after all. Can we so invest? Today? In sure and certain hope?
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Trick Answer?
Text: Luke 20:20-26
Many of us have found ourselves cornered by questions asked more for their "squirm value" than for any information. The desire is to put one in a situation such that any answer will alienate people on one side or another of the matter at hand. Sometimes it's a fun game; other times we call it political reporting.
Politics of a sort were certainly on the minds of those who asked Jesus about the appropriateness of paying taxes to the Roman government. The thought was that a positive answer would alienate the populace which had come to adore him; a negative answer would raise the attention of the Roman consulate itself. Immediately perceiving the intent of the question, he turned the occasion directly to his advantage by pointing out that anything with Caesar's image must belong to him. Coins bear Caesar's image, but people bear God's image and are to be devoted to Him.
On one hand, this response might at first appear to be nothing more than a clever retort to a mischievous question. On the other hand, they were stunned by it--never saw it coming, left speechless in its wake. I have a strong feeling that God continues to have answers that would do the same to today's best attempts at cornering Him and His people. As Luke's text continues (tomorrow) another question is raised in the same spirit. The response is direct, but not delivered in anger; it does not accept the false dichotomies offered. It changes the terms of engagement so that the questioner is questioned.
Our world will always attempt to paint us into corners. If we would be like Jesus, we must be close enough to him to know his mind through the Spirit-directed study, not only of the Word of God, but of the minds of the people who bring the challenges and the cultural and political landscape that form them as well. And we seek to deliver the answers in a gentle way which turns away wrath. Trite responses will not do; wisdom must prevail.
Many of us have found ourselves cornered by questions asked more for their "squirm value" than for any information. The desire is to put one in a situation such that any answer will alienate people on one side or another of the matter at hand. Sometimes it's a fun game; other times we call it political reporting.
Politics of a sort were certainly on the minds of those who asked Jesus about the appropriateness of paying taxes to the Roman government. The thought was that a positive answer would alienate the populace which had come to adore him; a negative answer would raise the attention of the Roman consulate itself. Immediately perceiving the intent of the question, he turned the occasion directly to his advantage by pointing out that anything with Caesar's image must belong to him. Coins bear Caesar's image, but people bear God's image and are to be devoted to Him.
On one hand, this response might at first appear to be nothing more than a clever retort to a mischievous question. On the other hand, they were stunned by it--never saw it coming, left speechless in its wake. I have a strong feeling that God continues to have answers that would do the same to today's best attempts at cornering Him and His people. As Luke's text continues (tomorrow) another question is raised in the same spirit. The response is direct, but not delivered in anger; it does not accept the false dichotomies offered. It changes the terms of engagement so that the questioner is questioned.
Our world will always attempt to paint us into corners. If we would be like Jesus, we must be close enough to him to know his mind through the Spirit-directed study, not only of the Word of God, but of the minds of the people who bring the challenges and the cultural and political landscape that form them as well. And we seek to deliver the answers in a gentle way which turns away wrath. Trite responses will not do; wisdom must prevail.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A Direct Hit
Text: Luke 20:9-19
The relationship between Jesus and the Judaic leadership was reaching a critical point. Any hope, humanly speaking, of coming to a meeting of the minds gave way after the story Jesus told to the gathered crowd. The tale of the tenants of a certain vineyard incited the sense of justice in everyone in the crowd. No one should behave so poorly as those tenants and get away with it. The punch line was the last straw, as Jesus quoted Scripture to clearly indicate that the leaders before him and those for whom they spoke constituted the tenants of his story--the ones whose actions brought outrage to the listeners.
Stewardship of the things of God, and particularly of the mysteries of God, is always a high and awesome calling. They must always be held as trusts for someone else, even while He sometimes lavishly allows us to enjoy their benefits. The landowner of the parable never asked for the entire harvest; he only sent emissaries to collect what had been already stipulated as his share. God seldom exacts the return of His gifts; but He does look for a return, as this and other parables indicate.
No one enjoys being "called on the carpet." When it happens to us we usually react defensively, as did the teachers who heard the story. Far better it is to deliver as promised in the first place. But we do become lax, we become possessive of the things we've been given, resentful of reminders that they are ours only for another. And as each progressive rejection of the owner's requests follows another, the character of our lives slowly changes. The evil we would never consider or even think possible grows to the point where the unthinkable becomes the inevitable. The teacher-tenants became murderers.
Individuals, congregations, denominations all are capable of following the same pattern. We are here, entrusted with divine mysteries that have to do with participating with God in the overcoming of evil through His redemptive love; yet it is all of grace that we hold these gifts, grace without which we are prone to practice evil rather than oppose it. Let us give the Lord His due portion of our waking hours, thoughts, and strength; and may we receive the grace to repent when we act otherwise.
The relationship between Jesus and the Judaic leadership was reaching a critical point. Any hope, humanly speaking, of coming to a meeting of the minds gave way after the story Jesus told to the gathered crowd. The tale of the tenants of a certain vineyard incited the sense of justice in everyone in the crowd. No one should behave so poorly as those tenants and get away with it. The punch line was the last straw, as Jesus quoted Scripture to clearly indicate that the leaders before him and those for whom they spoke constituted the tenants of his story--the ones whose actions brought outrage to the listeners.
Stewardship of the things of God, and particularly of the mysteries of God, is always a high and awesome calling. They must always be held as trusts for someone else, even while He sometimes lavishly allows us to enjoy their benefits. The landowner of the parable never asked for the entire harvest; he only sent emissaries to collect what had been already stipulated as his share. God seldom exacts the return of His gifts; but He does look for a return, as this and other parables indicate.
No one enjoys being "called on the carpet." When it happens to us we usually react defensively, as did the teachers who heard the story. Far better it is to deliver as promised in the first place. But we do become lax, we become possessive of the things we've been given, resentful of reminders that they are ours only for another. And as each progressive rejection of the owner's requests follows another, the character of our lives slowly changes. The evil we would never consider or even think possible grows to the point where the unthinkable becomes the inevitable. The teacher-tenants became murderers.
Individuals, congregations, denominations all are capable of following the same pattern. We are here, entrusted with divine mysteries that have to do with participating with God in the overcoming of evil through His redemptive love; yet it is all of grace that we hold these gifts, grace without which we are prone to practice evil rather than oppose it. Let us give the Lord His due portion of our waking hours, thoughts, and strength; and may we receive the grace to repent when we act otherwise.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
"Who Do You Think You Are?"
Text: Luke 20:1-8
We can safely assume that this exchange between Jesus the upper echelon of priests and teachers was more than a simple tit-for-tat game. It wasn't primarily about showing up the leaders, regardless of how deserving they may have ben of such treatment. So what was the point?
First of all, we should note what was taking place when the question was posed to Jesus: who gave you the right to do what you did to those merchants the other day? Let's review the scene. Jesus is teaching in the Temple, speaking the "good news" to people who were hanging on every word. What HAD they been hearing in the Temple if it wasn't good news? And the ones who were set apart to do the teaching weren't teaching--they were interrupting the preaching of the good news of the kingdom in order to ask about protocol. They were more concerned with silencing the one whose words were life than they were with the people given into their spiritual care.
Secondly, by pointing to John as one who had been sent by God Jesus again implied their own failure as teachers. John, too, was one whom people went out of their way to hear a message worthy of their response. And by refusing to answer Jesus' question, the teachers proved themselves incapable of discerning and stating where God was acting in their world.
Have we ever been more interested in whether protocol is followed than in whether the truth is being spoken, or so caught up in the trappings and procedures that we attempt to silence the good news, without even hearing it ourselves? Have we left people longing for the Word, and at the same time cast doubt upon those who provide it? Not everyone who draws a crowd is speaking truly for and of God; but we must be willing to listen first. God speaks in surprising places when the voices He first provides have been unfaithful in proclamation.
We can safely assume that this exchange between Jesus the upper echelon of priests and teachers was more than a simple tit-for-tat game. It wasn't primarily about showing up the leaders, regardless of how deserving they may have ben of such treatment. So what was the point?
First of all, we should note what was taking place when the question was posed to Jesus: who gave you the right to do what you did to those merchants the other day? Let's review the scene. Jesus is teaching in the Temple, speaking the "good news" to people who were hanging on every word. What HAD they been hearing in the Temple if it wasn't good news? And the ones who were set apart to do the teaching weren't teaching--they were interrupting the preaching of the good news of the kingdom in order to ask about protocol. They were more concerned with silencing the one whose words were life than they were with the people given into their spiritual care.
Secondly, by pointing to John as one who had been sent by God Jesus again implied their own failure as teachers. John, too, was one whom people went out of their way to hear a message worthy of their response. And by refusing to answer Jesus' question, the teachers proved themselves incapable of discerning and stating where God was acting in their world.
Have we ever been more interested in whether protocol is followed than in whether the truth is being spoken, or so caught up in the trappings and procedures that we attempt to silence the good news, without even hearing it ourselves? Have we left people longing for the Word, and at the same time cast doubt upon those who provide it? Not everyone who draws a crowd is speaking truly for and of God; but we must be willing to listen first. God speaks in surprising places when the voices He first provides have been unfaithful in proclamation.
Monday, March 15, 2010
What Would Jesus . . . Destroy?
Luke 19:45-48
How did it happen in the first place?
As Jesus entered Jerusalem and went into the temple, he was immediately confronted with the business aspect of Passover commemoration. Merchants were at their stalls--apparently an established practice. Why is this taking place in the Temple? Granted that we do not know everything about first century Temple law, it is hard to imagine that such arrangements were commanded. Nonetheless, they seem to be well established. And they angered Jesus.
It is not difficult to imagine that such a custom arose gradually, and probably with motives which seemed reasonable. Wouldn't it make sense to facilitate transactions required for the observance for the convenience of those who had traveled considerable distances to be in Jerusalem at all? Wouldn't it be unreasonable to deny such opportunity? And if there is a bit of a profit accruing to the Temple maintenance fund, why would anyone object? But it angered Jesus.
Any and every day and age has those practices which build over time. Sometimes they take on a life of their own; occasionally, they build to the point where they are perceived as untouchable, as sure and certain as the existence of the church itself. In the New Testament, both the church and the Christian are portrayed as the Temple of the Holy Spirit. And both would do well to use the penitential period of Lent as a time to question what there is in customary practice which compromises the character of that temple as a house of prayer. Have the things which were once simply expedient become untouchable, no longer open to question? Has the necessary business become the driving force, eclipsing first things? Has something driven prayer the ministry of the word to second or third status? Are there things which anger Jesus?
When Jesus returned to the cleansed temple, he taught daily, with people hanging on his words. It was life to the people at large, but conflicted harshly with the leaders. At times we might expect the same. That is,unless we're satisfied with less than the life that flows from His word into the lives and actions of His people. What will he overturn in us?
How did it happen in the first place?
As Jesus entered Jerusalem and went into the temple, he was immediately confronted with the business aspect of Passover commemoration. Merchants were at their stalls--apparently an established practice. Why is this taking place in the Temple? Granted that we do not know everything about first century Temple law, it is hard to imagine that such arrangements were commanded. Nonetheless, they seem to be well established. And they angered Jesus.
It is not difficult to imagine that such a custom arose gradually, and probably with motives which seemed reasonable. Wouldn't it make sense to facilitate transactions required for the observance for the convenience of those who had traveled considerable distances to be in Jerusalem at all? Wouldn't it be unreasonable to deny such opportunity? And if there is a bit of a profit accruing to the Temple maintenance fund, why would anyone object? But it angered Jesus.
Any and every day and age has those practices which build over time. Sometimes they take on a life of their own; occasionally, they build to the point where they are perceived as untouchable, as sure and certain as the existence of the church itself. In the New Testament, both the church and the Christian are portrayed as the Temple of the Holy Spirit. And both would do well to use the penitential period of Lent as a time to question what there is in customary practice which compromises the character of that temple as a house of prayer. Have the things which were once simply expedient become untouchable, no longer open to question? Has the necessary business become the driving force, eclipsing first things? Has something driven prayer the ministry of the word to second or third status? Are there things which anger Jesus?
When Jesus returned to the cleansed temple, he taught daily, with people hanging on his words. It was life to the people at large, but conflicted harshly with the leaders. At times we might expect the same. That is,unless we're satisfied with less than the life that flows from His word into the lives and actions of His people. What will he overturn in us?
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The Weeping King
Luke 19:41-44
Are there more poignant words in the Bible than these: "But as they came closer to Jerusalem and Jesus saw the city ahead, he began to cry" (NLT)? The Son of God, moved to tears over the pending destruction of the city of His Father's favor is so insightful a statement about who He is, what He longs for, and what His work in the world is all about.
Though he is looking toward events more than thirty years away, he sees very clearly the devastation of the city and its inhabitants at the hand of Rome. He longs for another outcome, but this is the one chosen by the people themselves. In their rejection of God's ways, not just once but repeatedly over generations, they would receive what that rejection must bring, namely the absence of His guiding, sustaining, protective hand. His tears demonstrate that the pending disaster was not a cause for God to declare "I told you so," with a note of vindication; it was from his knowledge that the evil of the world will overtake any without divine protection.
I cringe at the thought of how many times the exalted Lord has wept over His church in different places, in different times over the past 2,000 years? It must be many, beginning before the Bible itself was completed. The churches of Asia Minor addressed by John were, sorrowfully, only the beginning of a long list of those Jesus could see falling, their place left desolate, their surroundings void of vital Christian witness.
"I wish you would find the way of peace," are words directed toward all of us. That way is not missed because it has not been given, just as it was not missing in first century Jerusalem. But like its residents, we are so prone to balking at the way of life in favor of ways of living that seem to us to offer better prospects, even better avenues for the advance of the kingdom. They usually seem attractive at first, justifiable exceptions to what has been revealed. But ineffectiveness should tell us something; compromise should tell us something. Our prayer should be that we hear the warnings before the next words of the text are uttered bythe Lord regarding our congregations: "But now it is too late, and peace is hidden from you."
Are there more poignant words in the Bible than these: "But as they came closer to Jerusalem and Jesus saw the city ahead, he began to cry" (NLT)? The Son of God, moved to tears over the pending destruction of the city of His Father's favor is so insightful a statement about who He is, what He longs for, and what His work in the world is all about.
Though he is looking toward events more than thirty years away, he sees very clearly the devastation of the city and its inhabitants at the hand of Rome. He longs for another outcome, but this is the one chosen by the people themselves. In their rejection of God's ways, not just once but repeatedly over generations, they would receive what that rejection must bring, namely the absence of His guiding, sustaining, protective hand. His tears demonstrate that the pending disaster was not a cause for God to declare "I told you so," with a note of vindication; it was from his knowledge that the evil of the world will overtake any without divine protection.
I cringe at the thought of how many times the exalted Lord has wept over His church in different places, in different times over the past 2,000 years? It must be many, beginning before the Bible itself was completed. The churches of Asia Minor addressed by John were, sorrowfully, only the beginning of a long list of those Jesus could see falling, their place left desolate, their surroundings void of vital Christian witness.
"I wish you would find the way of peace," are words directed toward all of us. That way is not missed because it has not been given, just as it was not missing in first century Jerusalem. But like its residents, we are so prone to balking at the way of life in favor of ways of living that seem to us to offer better prospects, even better avenues for the advance of the kingdom. They usually seem attractive at first, justifiable exceptions to what has been revealed. But ineffectiveness should tell us something; compromise should tell us something. Our prayer should be that we hear the warnings before the next words of the text are uttered bythe Lord regarding our congregations: "But now it is too late, and peace is hidden from you."
Saturday, March 13, 2010
An Odd Inaugural Parade
Text: Luke 19:28-40
There is much upon which to comment in even the most well known biblical accounts. The scene from what we remember as Palm Sunday is like that. We can focus, for example, on the continuity from the previous verses; we can look at the following of instructions by the disciples, weird as they must have seemed; we could speculate about the owner of the animal confiscated by the two disciples; or look at the start of the parade, the exclamations of the crowd, the protesting by some Pharisees, etc.
Today, let us think about what odd juxtapositions were laid before the watching world as Jesus came into Jerusalem. A colt which had never been ridden; a 30-something civilian perched on the back of the colt; people spreading their coats on the ground for this almost comical figure; others dancing and singing some words about miracles. Then a chant about this man being a king. It's small wonder that the leaders asked him to stop the proceedings.
Kings do not make entries like this. Their enthronement is a grand, orchestrated affair, with the finest of stallions upon which to ride, the most impressive armor dressing the body, with lesser but important aides to his regime preparing the way. Many of our Bibles have the heading "Triumphal Entry" prior to this passage; but it really doesn't seem all that triumphal--where were the defeated foes, the prisoners of war such a designation would generally entail?
On the other hand, maybe the designation does make sense once we remove from our thinking that triumph means conquest and the vanquishing of foes who could be seen and identified. And his "courtiers" were indeed with him--the disciples and others among the crowd; and his subjects were praising him, even if with incomplete comprehension of his current purpose. All of this illustrates yet again that when we come to Jesus we must often leave preconceptions behind, particularly when it comes to what power looks like and how it is displayed. The way of Jesus--King of Kings and Lord of Lords--is the way of self-giving service, humility, and truth which will show its power over all foes in the days ahead now that he had arrived in Jerusalem. Lord, forgive us for seeking any other kind of power.
There is much upon which to comment in even the most well known biblical accounts. The scene from what we remember as Palm Sunday is like that. We can focus, for example, on the continuity from the previous verses; we can look at the following of instructions by the disciples, weird as they must have seemed; we could speculate about the owner of the animal confiscated by the two disciples; or look at the start of the parade, the exclamations of the crowd, the protesting by some Pharisees, etc.
Today, let us think about what odd juxtapositions were laid before the watching world as Jesus came into Jerusalem. A colt which had never been ridden; a 30-something civilian perched on the back of the colt; people spreading their coats on the ground for this almost comical figure; others dancing and singing some words about miracles. Then a chant about this man being a king. It's small wonder that the leaders asked him to stop the proceedings.
Kings do not make entries like this. Their enthronement is a grand, orchestrated affair, with the finest of stallions upon which to ride, the most impressive armor dressing the body, with lesser but important aides to his regime preparing the way. Many of our Bibles have the heading "Triumphal Entry" prior to this passage; but it really doesn't seem all that triumphal--where were the defeated foes, the prisoners of war such a designation would generally entail?
On the other hand, maybe the designation does make sense once we remove from our thinking that triumph means conquest and the vanquishing of foes who could be seen and identified. And his "courtiers" were indeed with him--the disciples and others among the crowd; and his subjects were praising him, even if with incomplete comprehension of his current purpose. All of this illustrates yet again that when we come to Jesus we must often leave preconceptions behind, particularly when it comes to what power looks like and how it is displayed. The way of Jesus--King of Kings and Lord of Lords--is the way of self-giving service, humility, and truth which will show its power over all foes in the days ahead now that he had arrived in Jerusalem. Lord, forgive us for seeking any other kind of power.
Friday, March 12, 2010
When He Comes
Text: Luke 19:11-27
The familiar passage begins with the note that Jesus was now nearing Jerusalem. The growing crowd noticed this as well, and we are told that Jesus spoke in order to correct their expectations. Messianic fervor was increasing with the size of the crowd; anticipation that Jesus could be the one to take control and lead the jubilant throng into political liberation was gaining headway.
Jesus responded with a story which must have sounded familiar to many in the audience. Years earlier, following the death of King Herod, there was significant political intrigue and posturing among his three sons vying for the stamp of Rome as his successor. Archelaus, one of the three, made a trip to Rome to plead his case and curry favor with those in power. While none of the three were especially likable fellows, this son was probably the most ruthless of the three. Gone for quite some time, he returned with only Judea and Samaria designated as his territory. He also returned in a foul mood, and executed a number of operatives known to have opposed his designs on power. Jesus' journey now had him near the boundary between Judea and Samaria.
The point of the story is both similarity and contrast, much as with the parable of the unrighteous judge. Like Archelaus, the one who will reign will come in his own time, probably when he is no longer widely expected. There would be no fanfare such that everyone would know and specifically prepare for his arrival at the last instant. There will be those diligently at the king's business; yes, the king. For while he was not king when he left, he will be upon his return, just as the former nobleman in the story--whether or not it was a reference to the real events of a not-so-distant past.
There is great reward for those who are diligent in doing kingdom business. One wonders what the third servant might have been doing with his time and effort while the master's money lay in the ground. Or need we look no further than our own use of the riches of our master to find the answer? Let's invest wisely in the days ahead and repent of those gone by. The five will be better than the empty return and will still be commended.
The familiar passage begins with the note that Jesus was now nearing Jerusalem. The growing crowd noticed this as well, and we are told that Jesus spoke in order to correct their expectations. Messianic fervor was increasing with the size of the crowd; anticipation that Jesus could be the one to take control and lead the jubilant throng into political liberation was gaining headway.
Jesus responded with a story which must have sounded familiar to many in the audience. Years earlier, following the death of King Herod, there was significant political intrigue and posturing among his three sons vying for the stamp of Rome as his successor. Archelaus, one of the three, made a trip to Rome to plead his case and curry favor with those in power. While none of the three were especially likable fellows, this son was probably the most ruthless of the three. Gone for quite some time, he returned with only Judea and Samaria designated as his territory. He also returned in a foul mood, and executed a number of operatives known to have opposed his designs on power. Jesus' journey now had him near the boundary between Judea and Samaria.
The point of the story is both similarity and contrast, much as with the parable of the unrighteous judge. Like Archelaus, the one who will reign will come in his own time, probably when he is no longer widely expected. There would be no fanfare such that everyone would know and specifically prepare for his arrival at the last instant. There will be those diligently at the king's business; yes, the king. For while he was not king when he left, he will be upon his return, just as the former nobleman in the story--whether or not it was a reference to the real events of a not-so-distant past.
There is great reward for those who are diligent in doing kingdom business. One wonders what the third servant might have been doing with his time and effort while the master's money lay in the ground. Or need we look no further than our own use of the riches of our master to find the answer? Let's invest wisely in the days ahead and repent of those gone by. The five will be better than the empty return and will still be commended.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Coming Up Short
Text: Luke 19:1-10
How many times did Jesus turn the tables on the common consensus? It seems to be something he delighted in doing in the encounters we have been reading and reflecting on--not just for the sake of confounding people, but for the sake of lifting up the lowly and lowering the lofty. Our sense of who is worthy of the Lord's attention is what is most challenged, at least to the extent we share the general consensus of our day, which is not so unlike the ones in which Jesus ministered.
Enter Zacchaeus, a despised man if ever there was one. Think Scrooge here, the character timelessly brought to us by Charles Dickens. He is the one no one wanted to deal with but could not be easily avoided; the one who would exact everything possible and sneer at the misery left behind. Zacchaeus, like Ebenezer Scrooge, was not a nice man.
Nor was he a happy man. His desperation to see Jesus nearly matched that of the blind beggar of yesterday's text. Not his eyes but his lack of height stood in the way; instead of crying out, he climbed a tree. He needed to see, not in the literal sense, but in the search of a better perspective on life. Wealth he had; contentment was far removed. But, frankly, maybe he deserved to be miserable; look at how he had gained his wealth--cheating his own people in the name of a hated occupying power.
As he always seems to do, Jesus saw things differently when he looked at Zacchaeus. Instead of a traitor he saw a lost son of Israel; instead of a cheater he saw a need for grace; instead of a cold heart he saw a broken man; instead of a shipwreck he saw a rescued soul; instead of an extortionist he saw a benefactor in the making. It's difficult to assess people from God's perspective when we are so accustomed to finding them at their daily business of being what they are in the world. Our judgments so easily come up short when it comes to seeing what people can be and are made to be, rather than on what they currently seem to be. Reflecting on what redemption can do here and now is a good antidote.
How many times did Jesus turn the tables on the common consensus? It seems to be something he delighted in doing in the encounters we have been reading and reflecting on--not just for the sake of confounding people, but for the sake of lifting up the lowly and lowering the lofty. Our sense of who is worthy of the Lord's attention is what is most challenged, at least to the extent we share the general consensus of our day, which is not so unlike the ones in which Jesus ministered.
Enter Zacchaeus, a despised man if ever there was one. Think Scrooge here, the character timelessly brought to us by Charles Dickens. He is the one no one wanted to deal with but could not be easily avoided; the one who would exact everything possible and sneer at the misery left behind. Zacchaeus, like Ebenezer Scrooge, was not a nice man.
Nor was he a happy man. His desperation to see Jesus nearly matched that of the blind beggar of yesterday's text. Not his eyes but his lack of height stood in the way; instead of crying out, he climbed a tree. He needed to see, not in the literal sense, but in the search of a better perspective on life. Wealth he had; contentment was far removed. But, frankly, maybe he deserved to be miserable; look at how he had gained his wealth--cheating his own people in the name of a hated occupying power.
As he always seems to do, Jesus saw things differently when he looked at Zacchaeus. Instead of a traitor he saw a lost son of Israel; instead of a cheater he saw a need for grace; instead of a cold heart he saw a broken man; instead of a shipwreck he saw a rescued soul; instead of an extortionist he saw a benefactor in the making. It's difficult to assess people from God's perspective when we are so accustomed to finding them at their daily business of being what they are in the world. Our judgments so easily come up short when it comes to seeing what people can be and are made to be, rather than on what they currently seem to be. Reflecting on what redemption can do here and now is a good antidote.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
"I Want to See!"
Text: Luke 18:35-43
The disciples wanted to keep children away from Jesus. In a parable a judge wanted to keep a needy widow outside the reach of justice. In today's text the crowd wanted to keep a blind man from an audience with Jesus. One way to deal with human need and weakness is to pretend it is not there. But that's not the way of our Lord. "Bring him here."
I doubt many of us can imagine the impact of those words on the spirit of a blind beggar. He was quite accustomed, one would suppose, to the dismissiveness of the crowd. Perhaps their attitude was understandable, even while obviously deficient. It doesn't require total heartlessness to pass him by; it only requires that helpless feeling of having nothing to offer, and then allowing the focus on what one does not have to dominate any thoughts of what could be done. Over time, the calloused soul atrophies.
This time, however, the man would not be dissuaded from seeking one he believed could help him. And when invited into the center of Jesus' attention, he heard even more encouraging words: "What do you want me to do for you?" Men said, "Hush!" The Son of Man asked what he could do. What a contrast! It would not have been realized had he not been desperately persistent about his need. When we come to Jesus, we too must not be easily turned aside.
Today, however, I would like to focus on our call to imitate the Lord's manner. That manner is summarized very simply by two phrases: Bring him to me; What do you want me to do for you? As the body of Christ in this world, these phrases should be expressed wherever the church is found. In a broken world, the church says to the ones on the margins, come; and when they come, what is it that Jesus can do for them? Then, instead of telling them their need, we invite them to express it themselves, that they may own what healing may come. When people are set free, transformed, cured of blindness, and reminded lovingly that they matter to their Creator, they and the watching world will praise God.
The disciples wanted to keep children away from Jesus. In a parable a judge wanted to keep a needy widow outside the reach of justice. In today's text the crowd wanted to keep a blind man from an audience with Jesus. One way to deal with human need and weakness is to pretend it is not there. But that's not the way of our Lord. "Bring him here."
I doubt many of us can imagine the impact of those words on the spirit of a blind beggar. He was quite accustomed, one would suppose, to the dismissiveness of the crowd. Perhaps their attitude was understandable, even while obviously deficient. It doesn't require total heartlessness to pass him by; it only requires that helpless feeling of having nothing to offer, and then allowing the focus on what one does not have to dominate any thoughts of what could be done. Over time, the calloused soul atrophies.
This time, however, the man would not be dissuaded from seeking one he believed could help him. And when invited into the center of Jesus' attention, he heard even more encouraging words: "What do you want me to do for you?" Men said, "Hush!" The Son of Man asked what he could do. What a contrast! It would not have been realized had he not been desperately persistent about his need. When we come to Jesus, we too must not be easily turned aside.
Today, however, I would like to focus on our call to imitate the Lord's manner. That manner is summarized very simply by two phrases: Bring him to me; What do you want me to do for you? As the body of Christ in this world, these phrases should be expressed wherever the church is found. In a broken world, the church says to the ones on the margins, come; and when they come, what is it that Jesus can do for them? Then, instead of telling them their need, we invite them to express it themselves, that they may own what healing may come. When people are set free, transformed, cured of blindness, and reminded lovingly that they matter to their Creator, they and the watching world will praise God.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Right on Track
Text: Luke 18:31-34
Have you ever explained things to someone clearly and thoroughly--and to no avail? Most of us have had the experience, and from the other side of the conversation as well. The possible reasons for the failed communication are many: inattentiveness, poor choice of words by the speaker, distractions in the midst of the delivery, and several others come to mind.
From Jesus' own perspective as related by Luke, everything was progressing as it should. The journey toward Jerusalem, in spite of being filled with many encounters with the friendly, the hostile, and the curious, was on schedule. He would arrive at just the right time for the Passover observance. This much his disciples understood with no difficulty; they had been there before. The enormous investment of new meaning into that ancient observance, however, was light-years from their minds.
So when Jesus very clearly laid out what was going to happen this time, it went right by them. I suspect it would have gone right by virtually anyone. They knew what happened at Passover, for they had participated many times. Passover had nothing to do with one of the participants fulfilling prophecy by being handed over, mocked, insulted, spat upon, flogged, and killed. And if a death did occur, resurrections surely do not--no matter who it is. Luke uses three consecutive phrases to underscore how incomprehensible the entire message must have been. They didn't understand any of this; its meaning was hidden (by the Holy Spirit? by their perceptions and presuppositions?); they didn't know what he was talking about. Perhaps it is little wonder that a few days hence they would flee as these things unfolded.
I suspect that there are yet clear instructions and announcements about the intents and desires of Jesus that his followers do not receive for one reason or another. All we need to do is look at the people in our congregations, or better, at ourselves. What is it that we have trouble with in his clear directions? Maybe we need to ask this of one another so that the things which do not add up to us may be clarified by those who know us and see us and in whom the Spirit dwells. God's program is still on the right track, going where He wills it to go; can we hear well enough to stay with Him?
Have you ever explained things to someone clearly and thoroughly--and to no avail? Most of us have had the experience, and from the other side of the conversation as well. The possible reasons for the failed communication are many: inattentiveness, poor choice of words by the speaker, distractions in the midst of the delivery, and several others come to mind.
From Jesus' own perspective as related by Luke, everything was progressing as it should. The journey toward Jerusalem, in spite of being filled with many encounters with the friendly, the hostile, and the curious, was on schedule. He would arrive at just the right time for the Passover observance. This much his disciples understood with no difficulty; they had been there before. The enormous investment of new meaning into that ancient observance, however, was light-years from their minds.
So when Jesus very clearly laid out what was going to happen this time, it went right by them. I suspect it would have gone right by virtually anyone. They knew what happened at Passover, for they had participated many times. Passover had nothing to do with one of the participants fulfilling prophecy by being handed over, mocked, insulted, spat upon, flogged, and killed. And if a death did occur, resurrections surely do not--no matter who it is. Luke uses three consecutive phrases to underscore how incomprehensible the entire message must have been. They didn't understand any of this; its meaning was hidden (by the Holy Spirit? by their perceptions and presuppositions?); they didn't know what he was talking about. Perhaps it is little wonder that a few days hence they would flee as these things unfolded.
I suspect that there are yet clear instructions and announcements about the intents and desires of Jesus that his followers do not receive for one reason or another. All we need to do is look at the people in our congregations, or better, at ourselves. What is it that we have trouble with in his clear directions? Maybe we need to ask this of one another so that the things which do not add up to us may be clarified by those who know us and see us and in whom the Spirit dwells. God's program is still on the right track, going where He wills it to go; can we hear well enough to stay with Him?
Monday, March 8, 2010
That Doesn't Compute
Text: Luke 18:18-30
The subject of money has been quite prominent in the encounters between Jesus and his audience, especially when the audience specifically includes the elite members of the religious establishment. It wasn't the position these men held that caused friction with Jesus; rather, it was the love of money they had fallen into which showed that their hearts had strayed from the first things of their appointed status.
In today's text, however, we learn that even the disciples of Jesus had adopted one of the most dangerous attitudes toward money that anyone could hold. It is this: that monetary wealth is the sign of God's favor. We've probably heard the story many times. A wealthy religious leader asks Jesus for the key to eternal life, claims to have followed the commandments since his youth, yet still is unsatisfied. Upon hearing this, Jesus tells him to liquidate his wealth, give it away, and follow him. When the man sadly walks away instead, Jesus stuns his followers by exclaiming the difficulty of being rich and entering the kingdom of God. Yes, he stunned them with these words. If anyone was sure to be saved, it would be the wealthy person who followed the commandments; and if that can't be counted on, who, indeed can be saved?
No matter how many times we hear it, the idea of leaving, rather than accumulating the riches of life in order to follow Jesus doesn't always sink in. We go out of our way at times to soften the blow of the Lord's words here. We are sure that Jesus didn't mean what he said literally, that there is a spiritual meaning which overrides the straight-forward sense of his statement. It IS hard for the wealthy to enter the kingdom; it's not impossible, but only because God does the impossible, not because the demands have been lowered.
There is encouragement offered to Peter and to each one who has truly lost the treasures of this life in order to follow Jesus. That encouragement comes in the form of a promise that nothing we leave behind to follow the kingdom will go without notice and without repayment. Many Christians have learned this truth, finding more friends and brothers and sisters than they ever imagined, and counting it as immeasurable wealth. And that's just the beginning.
Is there anything Jesus is asking for from you which constitutes the one thing that we lack? If so, you'll be happier without it than you are with it.
The subject of money has been quite prominent in the encounters between Jesus and his audience, especially when the audience specifically includes the elite members of the religious establishment. It wasn't the position these men held that caused friction with Jesus; rather, it was the love of money they had fallen into which showed that their hearts had strayed from the first things of their appointed status.
In today's text, however, we learn that even the disciples of Jesus had adopted one of the most dangerous attitudes toward money that anyone could hold. It is this: that monetary wealth is the sign of God's favor. We've probably heard the story many times. A wealthy religious leader asks Jesus for the key to eternal life, claims to have followed the commandments since his youth, yet still is unsatisfied. Upon hearing this, Jesus tells him to liquidate his wealth, give it away, and follow him. When the man sadly walks away instead, Jesus stuns his followers by exclaiming the difficulty of being rich and entering the kingdom of God. Yes, he stunned them with these words. If anyone was sure to be saved, it would be the wealthy person who followed the commandments; and if that can't be counted on, who, indeed can be saved?
No matter how many times we hear it, the idea of leaving, rather than accumulating the riches of life in order to follow Jesus doesn't always sink in. We go out of our way at times to soften the blow of the Lord's words here. We are sure that Jesus didn't mean what he said literally, that there is a spiritual meaning which overrides the straight-forward sense of his statement. It IS hard for the wealthy to enter the kingdom; it's not impossible, but only because God does the impossible, not because the demands have been lowered.
There is encouragement offered to Peter and to each one who has truly lost the treasures of this life in order to follow Jesus. That encouragement comes in the form of a promise that nothing we leave behind to follow the kingdom will go without notice and without repayment. Many Christians have learned this truth, finding more friends and brothers and sisters than they ever imagined, and counting it as immeasurable wealth. And that's just the beginning.
Is there anything Jesus is asking for from you which constitutes the one thing that we lack? If so, you'll be happier without it than you are with it.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Who Counts?
Text: Luke 18: 15-17
Today, a short passage. As far as the great theological truths in the Bible, it may seem almost inconsequential. What impact does it have on our perceptions of the savior on the way to Jerusalem to offer himself for the sins of the world? Jesus liked kids; of course he did, but what's the point? Thus far in this series we have been encouraged to go beneath the surface in order to discover hidden acts and attitudes which call for our repentance. Not to be excluded from this reflection is that which comes from seeing more clearly the Christ whom we are called to follow and emulate in our lives.
Let's take a look at the people in this incident, beginning with the parents of the little children. Notice first of all that the text does not say "mothers," but "parents." Both are involved because these little one are the most precious of all possessions, and they want to take every possible avenue toward their prospering and well being. What they expected to gain is not entirely clear; but once they saw that Jesus had gladly received the first few, others rushed at the opportunity to have this extraordinary man place his tender, miracle performing hands upon their beloved ones.
Then there were the disciples, who were certain that they should save their Lord from such mundane and meaningless activity. These boys and girls were cute, perhaps. but they had nothing to contribute to the very important business at hand. How easy it is to value people for their perceived potential to contribute to our cause, our well being, our dreams, or even our own construction of the present. Jesus values people for their "peopleness," not for their contribution.
Then Jesus uses the children to illustrate a great theological principle: watch a child receiving gifts, and you'll get a glimpse of what it means to have saving faith. A child on Christmas morning will ignore all else, even a gift just received, in order to take what is presently being offered; and he or she will put down what is most prized in order to receive something they do not yet understand and which they cannot identify until it is open. The only reason for doing this is trust in the one who is giving the gift. It's that kind of faith we are called to exhibit--trusting Christ not because we know what's coming, but because we have come to know and trust the one who offers it to us. Let's keep open hands; let's keep on embracing the needy ones, not because they can give back to us, but because they count in God's manner of valuation.
Today, a short passage. As far as the great theological truths in the Bible, it may seem almost inconsequential. What impact does it have on our perceptions of the savior on the way to Jerusalem to offer himself for the sins of the world? Jesus liked kids; of course he did, but what's the point? Thus far in this series we have been encouraged to go beneath the surface in order to discover hidden acts and attitudes which call for our repentance. Not to be excluded from this reflection is that which comes from seeing more clearly the Christ whom we are called to follow and emulate in our lives.
Let's take a look at the people in this incident, beginning with the parents of the little children. Notice first of all that the text does not say "mothers," but "parents." Both are involved because these little one are the most precious of all possessions, and they want to take every possible avenue toward their prospering and well being. What they expected to gain is not entirely clear; but once they saw that Jesus had gladly received the first few, others rushed at the opportunity to have this extraordinary man place his tender, miracle performing hands upon their beloved ones.
Then there were the disciples, who were certain that they should save their Lord from such mundane and meaningless activity. These boys and girls were cute, perhaps. but they had nothing to contribute to the very important business at hand. How easy it is to value people for their perceived potential to contribute to our cause, our well being, our dreams, or even our own construction of the present. Jesus values people for their "peopleness," not for their contribution.
Then Jesus uses the children to illustrate a great theological principle: watch a child receiving gifts, and you'll get a glimpse of what it means to have saving faith. A child on Christmas morning will ignore all else, even a gift just received, in order to take what is presently being offered; and he or she will put down what is most prized in order to receive something they do not yet understand and which they cannot identify until it is open. The only reason for doing this is trust in the one who is giving the gift. It's that kind of faith we are called to exhibit--trusting Christ not because we know what's coming, but because we have come to know and trust the one who offers it to us. Let's keep open hands; let's keep on embracing the needy ones, not because they can give back to us, but because they count in God's manner of valuation.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Polar Opposites
Text: Luke 18:9-14
What a combination--great self-confidence and scorn for others. We usually call it by a single name: arrogance. In certain circles it is viewed, at least potentially, as something positive. In business, especially where the rough and tumble approach is assumed; in highly competitive sports. But there are far more places and contexts in which such arrogance is neither desired nor tolerable. Surely, standing before God is the most prominent of such places.
Today's text is a classic one in refuting any notion of works-based righteousness before God. The contrast between the two individuals is deliberately stated: Pharisee v. tax collector; morally upright v. compromising; learned in the scriptures and the laws derived therefrom v. versed in Roman tax regulations and how to profit therefrom; high public esteem v. scorn shared by all.
But it's a corresponding set of attributes Jesus is interested in: proud v. humble; righteous in his own eyes v. convicted before God; boldly proclaiming innocence v. shamefully asking for mercy. The final contrast is the most important: unjustified v. justified.
One character I have often pointed to as an example of the due humility of even those privileged to have studied God in depth is a priest in the movie "Rudy," about an under-sized and under-talented, yet highly motivated young man with a dream of playing Notre Dame football. When asked why prayer wasn't being answered, the priest simply responded by saying that after 35 years of studying theology, there were only two things he knew for sure: "There is a God; and I'm not Him." I'm sure the man had other firm convictions; but that was not to the point. He knew he hadn't earned a special status by virtue of his calling and opportunities. Can we likewise look upon ourselves as every bit as needful as the tax collector of the loving grace of God, no matter where we are in life or much has been accomplished in and through us? The test of that lesson is to see everyone else as equally worthy of the same grace, regardless of where they are, needing only to repent. Lord, lead us to assessment that is more than fair--of ourselves and of others.
What a combination--great self-confidence and scorn for others. We usually call it by a single name: arrogance. In certain circles it is viewed, at least potentially, as something positive. In business, especially where the rough and tumble approach is assumed; in highly competitive sports. But there are far more places and contexts in which such arrogance is neither desired nor tolerable. Surely, standing before God is the most prominent of such places.
Today's text is a classic one in refuting any notion of works-based righteousness before God. The contrast between the two individuals is deliberately stated: Pharisee v. tax collector; morally upright v. compromising; learned in the scriptures and the laws derived therefrom v. versed in Roman tax regulations and how to profit therefrom; high public esteem v. scorn shared by all.
But it's a corresponding set of attributes Jesus is interested in: proud v. humble; righteous in his own eyes v. convicted before God; boldly proclaiming innocence v. shamefully asking for mercy. The final contrast is the most important: unjustified v. justified.
One character I have often pointed to as an example of the due humility of even those privileged to have studied God in depth is a priest in the movie "Rudy," about an under-sized and under-talented, yet highly motivated young man with a dream of playing Notre Dame football. When asked why prayer wasn't being answered, the priest simply responded by saying that after 35 years of studying theology, there were only two things he knew for sure: "There is a God; and I'm not Him." I'm sure the man had other firm convictions; but that was not to the point. He knew he hadn't earned a special status by virtue of his calling and opportunities. Can we likewise look upon ourselves as every bit as needful as the tax collector of the loving grace of God, no matter where we are in life or much has been accomplished in and through us? The test of that lesson is to see everyone else as equally worthy of the same grace, regardless of where they are, needing only to repent. Lord, lead us to assessment that is more than fair--of ourselves and of others.
Friday, March 5, 2010
Learn a Lesson
Text: Luke 18:1-8
It's not often that the gospel writers are so direct about the lessons Jesus intended to teach with his parables and sayings; in fact, there are times we are told that the point was deliberately vague. But there is a point to be made on a critical topic here. So he tells us flat out that this story of an unrighteous judge was told to illustrate the need to pray without giving up. Does that sound like a lesson any of us need to hear--again?
The point is simple enough. In his story, Jesus contrasts an uncaring, unsympathetic, self-absorbed judge with the good Father in heaven. In spite of his contemptible character, the judge knew the right thing to do. But he actually did the right thing only after untiring badgering from the woman in pursuit of the justice only he could grant. How unlike God this man is. God delights in doing the right thing, and we can count on Him to do so. We don't need to keep on going to with a mind set on wearing down His resistance. We don't even need to worry about whether we're praying for the right outcome of a situation, because He will give justice to His children; not what we think we need, but justice.
But Jesus doesn't leave the matter at this point. He continues by turning the question around. God can be trusted to provide justice; He is faithful to His word. But can we be trusted to be faithful to Him? What he says is that the question is not so much about God's faithfulness as it is about ours. He will give justice; the Son of Man will return. And when he does, will he find faithful people?
I believe the faithfulness he will be looking for, and seeks even now from those who are His, is the same character as the Father when it comes to providing justice for those to whom it is due from us. Will we withhold justice, refrain from doing the right thing until we are backed into a corner or other equally uncomfortable position, where the only way out is to do what should have been done initially? Or will we delight in giving to each his or her rightful claim on our time, our friendship, our resources? Today, who is seeking justice from me, from you? Will I graciously extend it, or will I imitate the one who fears not God or man?
It's not often that the gospel writers are so direct about the lessons Jesus intended to teach with his parables and sayings; in fact, there are times we are told that the point was deliberately vague. But there is a point to be made on a critical topic here. So he tells us flat out that this story of an unrighteous judge was told to illustrate the need to pray without giving up. Does that sound like a lesson any of us need to hear--again?
The point is simple enough. In his story, Jesus contrasts an uncaring, unsympathetic, self-absorbed judge with the good Father in heaven. In spite of his contemptible character, the judge knew the right thing to do. But he actually did the right thing only after untiring badgering from the woman in pursuit of the justice only he could grant. How unlike God this man is. God delights in doing the right thing, and we can count on Him to do so. We don't need to keep on going to with a mind set on wearing down His resistance. We don't even need to worry about whether we're praying for the right outcome of a situation, because He will give justice to His children; not what we think we need, but justice.
But Jesus doesn't leave the matter at this point. He continues by turning the question around. God can be trusted to provide justice; He is faithful to His word. But can we be trusted to be faithful to Him? What he says is that the question is not so much about God's faithfulness as it is about ours. He will give justice; the Son of Man will return. And when he does, will he find faithful people?
I believe the faithfulness he will be looking for, and seeks even now from those who are His, is the same character as the Father when it comes to providing justice for those to whom it is due from us. Will we withhold justice, refrain from doing the right thing until we are backed into a corner or other equally uncomfortable position, where the only way out is to do what should have been done initially? Or will we delight in giving to each his or her rightful claim on our time, our friendship, our resources? Today, who is seeking justice from me, from you? Will I graciously extend it, or will I imitate the one who fears not God or man?
Thursday, March 4, 2010
The Intoxication of the Ordinary
Text: Luke 17:26-37
I can't imagine a more graphic way for Jesus to say that his return will not be announced beforehand than what is recorded in today's text. Everything will be going on as usual--doing business, planning weddings, playing games, teaching all manner of lessons. Then he'll suddenly appear and all of it will change; some will be here no more. What life will be like for those remaining is not said.
The interest here is not in collating other biblical texts to try to at least partially answer those open questions. Our interest is rather in the text as Luke gave it to us; and those questions were apparently not why he recorded these words. Rather, they are connected with the call to seek the kingdom in the preceding paragraph. The seeking of the kingdom is done in the ordinary, in the commercial, in the familial and familiar things of life--but with an eye not permanently fixed thereon. Here lies the greatest challenge of Christian, kingdom living: being in the world but not of the world. Sharing in its activities, but with the redemption of its participants in mind.
Seek first the kingdom. Seek God's will and righteousness in all dealings in the world, in all human relationships. If we do not, they will become ends in themselves and slowly distance us from the Giver of these good things, so that when is revealed--either at the end of the world or the end of our own days--we will be drawn to look back to embrace the temporal and lose the eternal. Alas, our souls will have in that case withered, suiting them not for the return of the savior but for the consumption of vultures.
I can't imagine a more graphic way for Jesus to say that his return will not be announced beforehand than what is recorded in today's text. Everything will be going on as usual--doing business, planning weddings, playing games, teaching all manner of lessons. Then he'll suddenly appear and all of it will change; some will be here no more. What life will be like for those remaining is not said.
The interest here is not in collating other biblical texts to try to at least partially answer those open questions. Our interest is rather in the text as Luke gave it to us; and those questions were apparently not why he recorded these words. Rather, they are connected with the call to seek the kingdom in the preceding paragraph. The seeking of the kingdom is done in the ordinary, in the commercial, in the familial and familiar things of life--but with an eye not permanently fixed thereon. Here lies the greatest challenge of Christian, kingdom living: being in the world but not of the world. Sharing in its activities, but with the redemption of its participants in mind.
Seek first the kingdom. Seek God's will and righteousness in all dealings in the world, in all human relationships. If we do not, they will become ends in themselves and slowly distance us from the Giver of these good things, so that when is revealed--either at the end of the world or the end of our own days--we will be drawn to look back to embrace the temporal and lose the eternal. Alas, our souls will have in that case withered, suiting them not for the return of the savior but for the consumption of vultures.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Correction
"Curious Minds . . . " is the post for Wednesday, March 3. The blog has a faulty clock and posted at a different time and date.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Curious Minds Want to Know
Text: Luke 17:20-25
It seems from today's text that fascination with end times is nothing new. It is reasonable to assume that it wasn't just the disciples who wanted to know about God's rule--the continuing popularity of prophecy books and conferences attest to that same curiosity today.
What Jesus says in response to the disciples is highly instructive, not only for them but for us and for any who come after us. "When will the Kingdom of God come?" It's the same questions some of Jesus' contemporaries asked, and it's one people have asked ever since. In reply Jesus makes a distinction between two concepts; in so doing he changes the focus drastically. We should pay heed. The kingdom is one concept; the coming of the Son of Man is another. The first is virtually imperceptible; the second will be unmistakably apparent. The first demands our action; the second is entirely dependent upon God.
The kingdom is the rule of God, the place where his will is done. It is not the final event of history, but the manner in which His people live until then. It's not a specific territory, marked by boundaries, guarded by armed forces. It encompasses the area of the human hearts wherein his rule is accepted and lived. It's among us, even as we conduct our lives in the world that resists such rule, preferring its own. It is a submission which anticipates the coming Son to authenticate, vindicate, and redeem our kingdom actions.
We need not look for signs, verify rumors, listen to reports, or become anxious about missing the kingdom; its presence is among us. The question is whether we will live in and under it today and repent of resisting it yesterday. Its duties and responsibilities are more than sufficient in a world that rejects its Christ.
It seems from today's text that fascination with end times is nothing new. It is reasonable to assume that it wasn't just the disciples who wanted to know about God's rule--the continuing popularity of prophecy books and conferences attest to that same curiosity today.
What Jesus says in response to the disciples is highly instructive, not only for them but for us and for any who come after us. "When will the Kingdom of God come?" It's the same questions some of Jesus' contemporaries asked, and it's one people have asked ever since. In reply Jesus makes a distinction between two concepts; in so doing he changes the focus drastically. We should pay heed. The kingdom is one concept; the coming of the Son of Man is another. The first is virtually imperceptible; the second will be unmistakably apparent. The first demands our action; the second is entirely dependent upon God.
The kingdom is the rule of God, the place where his will is done. It is not the final event of history, but the manner in which His people live until then. It's not a specific territory, marked by boundaries, guarded by armed forces. It encompasses the area of the human hearts wherein his rule is accepted and lived. It's among us, even as we conduct our lives in the world that resists such rule, preferring its own. It is a submission which anticipates the coming Son to authenticate, vindicate, and redeem our kingdom actions.
We need not look for signs, verify rumors, listen to reports, or become anxious about missing the kingdom; its presence is among us. The question is whether we will live in and under it today and repent of resisting it yesterday. Its duties and responsibilities are more than sufficient in a world that rejects its Christ.
Thanks Anyone?
Text: Luke 17:11-19
"Jesus, have mercy!" How often those words have been uttered throughout history. How varied the souls who have spoken them. Those in physical distress, those weighed down by all manner of uncertainty regarding life, relationships, loved ones heading for disaster, dear ones dying. "Jesus, have mercy!" The faithful speak the words, the marginal believers remember them, the unfaithful find them, and even the unbelieving try them. Sometimes they are shouted, almost in defiance, sometimes they are forced in desperation, sometimes they barely come forth even in a whisper of resignation.
An old saying tells us there are no atheists in foxholes. And life presents many such places, where only the barest of refuge can be sought, and in which all that really matters is quickly and accurately assessed. While some may dismiss the near universal tendency to cry out for divine assistance and even more so for divine mercy as futile desperation, could it not also be an indicator of a loving God making either a last minute plea for a child of His to turn with hope-filled eyes to the source of all good things, or granting the reassurance needed in the hour?
Many are those who escape the danger, endure the trial, pass through the enemy fire and walk away, never mindful that their continued living is all of the grace for which they had asked. Nine out of ten living in a border village on the road to Jerusalem fell into that category. One was filled with gratitude sufficient to return and worship the grace giver. All had received that for which they had asked.
Yes, we're all in the lepers' company, and most of us have cried out and received mercy; most of those who read this have thanked Jesus. Now will we be more willing to take on his manner? Are we ready to extend mercy and compassion to those who will not give one ounce of gratitude or appreciation? Jesus knew the hearts of the nine; but his love was stronger than their self-centered way. Can we learn the way of the savior, with a love for others that is not overcome by their ingratitude?
"Jesus, have mercy!" How often those words have been uttered throughout history. How varied the souls who have spoken them. Those in physical distress, those weighed down by all manner of uncertainty regarding life, relationships, loved ones heading for disaster, dear ones dying. "Jesus, have mercy!" The faithful speak the words, the marginal believers remember them, the unfaithful find them, and even the unbelieving try them. Sometimes they are shouted, almost in defiance, sometimes they are forced in desperation, sometimes they barely come forth even in a whisper of resignation.
An old saying tells us there are no atheists in foxholes. And life presents many such places, where only the barest of refuge can be sought, and in which all that really matters is quickly and accurately assessed. While some may dismiss the near universal tendency to cry out for divine assistance and even more so for divine mercy as futile desperation, could it not also be an indicator of a loving God making either a last minute plea for a child of His to turn with hope-filled eyes to the source of all good things, or granting the reassurance needed in the hour?
Many are those who escape the danger, endure the trial, pass through the enemy fire and walk away, never mindful that their continued living is all of the grace for which they had asked. Nine out of ten living in a border village on the road to Jerusalem fell into that category. One was filled with gratitude sufficient to return and worship the grace giver. All had received that for which they had asked.
Yes, we're all in the lepers' company, and most of us have cried out and received mercy; most of those who read this have thanked Jesus. Now will we be more willing to take on his manner? Are we ready to extend mercy and compassion to those who will not give one ounce of gratitude or appreciation? Jesus knew the hearts of the nine; but his love was stronger than their self-centered way. Can we learn the way of the savior, with a love for others that is not overcome by their ingratitude?
Monday, March 1, 2010
You Asked for What?
Text: Luke 17:5-11
Have you ever found yourself envious of another Christian's spiritual life? Maybe this brother or sister always has the right words, the right demeanor, the right response; he or she never seems to be flustered by the unexpected, stands firm in the face of adversity, and just seems to have it all together. And always smiles. Have you ever found yourself asking for that kind of faith?
The text for today shows that even those closest to Jesus recognize that they are so terribly inadequate in terms of faith. Or, maybe it's the case that those closest to Jesus recognize how far they are from the absolute reliance on the Father in heaven when compared to Jesus and his own reliance and confidence in his Father. They, too, asked for more faith. But wait a minute--were not these the same ones who had gone out and healed and cast out demons in the name of Jesus (see Chapter 10)? And they need more faith?
The answer Jesus gives seems rather curious. At first, he responds by telling them how little faith is required to accomplish some very remarkable changes in the world around them. When he follows this statement by referring to the service due from a servant to his master, it seems disconnected, which has opened the passage to many widely ranging interpretations. For our reflection today, let me suggest that Jesus is not chastising his friends for their lack of faith, but might be doing so for the question itself. Faith is not something handed out, for which we get in line. In following the logic of the saying, servants do not ask for blessings or expect favors; they are to obey, trusting that their master will give everything they need when the time comes. To ask for extra faith, first of all, runs counter to the way faith operates; it is built by obedient service. Secondly, if it is viewed as one of the gifts or favors from the Father, it seems to question His apportionment of blessing, when in reality He has promised all we need, both for now and for when our service is complete.
We're familiar with versions of Christianity which promise all sorts of blessings now, whether in terms of finances, health or even spiritual experiences. Let us learn faith through obedience, knowing that God will give us all things in their proper time.
Have you ever found yourself envious of another Christian's spiritual life? Maybe this brother or sister always has the right words, the right demeanor, the right response; he or she never seems to be flustered by the unexpected, stands firm in the face of adversity, and just seems to have it all together. And always smiles. Have you ever found yourself asking for that kind of faith?
The text for today shows that even those closest to Jesus recognize that they are so terribly inadequate in terms of faith. Or, maybe it's the case that those closest to Jesus recognize how far they are from the absolute reliance on the Father in heaven when compared to Jesus and his own reliance and confidence in his Father. They, too, asked for more faith. But wait a minute--were not these the same ones who had gone out and healed and cast out demons in the name of Jesus (see Chapter 10)? And they need more faith?
The answer Jesus gives seems rather curious. At first, he responds by telling them how little faith is required to accomplish some very remarkable changes in the world around them. When he follows this statement by referring to the service due from a servant to his master, it seems disconnected, which has opened the passage to many widely ranging interpretations. For our reflection today, let me suggest that Jesus is not chastising his friends for their lack of faith, but might be doing so for the question itself. Faith is not something handed out, for which we get in line. In following the logic of the saying, servants do not ask for blessings or expect favors; they are to obey, trusting that their master will give everything they need when the time comes. To ask for extra faith, first of all, runs counter to the way faith operates; it is built by obedient service. Secondly, if it is viewed as one of the gifts or favors from the Father, it seems to question His apportionment of blessing, when in reality He has promised all we need, both for now and for when our service is complete.
We're familiar with versions of Christianity which promise all sorts of blessings now, whether in terms of finances, health or even spiritual experiences. Let us learn faith through obedience, knowing that God will give us all things in their proper time.
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