I think this'll be my last blog entry—my readership is waning. I’ll probably go back to devotional guides.
But write this blog I must because last Sunday’s sermon was a bit controversial and needs some clarification.
For starters, I don’t really believe in the simplistic statement that religion causes violence. Violent people will use religion and often religious imagery to further inflame misplaced passion. Nonetheless, religion is still implicated; there are religious leaders who misuse religious language to justify and further inflame the violence they desire. Last Sunday, I forgot to change the disagree/agree statement. I used that statement to get you to think and to help us understand that religion, at times, has not been a force for peace and well-being in our world. In fact “being right” is often used to justify the use of might, unfortunately.
Isaiah has a different vision. He believes that when the knowledge of God is at work in our world there will be peace. Whereas many people are inspired by their religious conviction to commit acts of atrocity, Isaiah believes that knowledge—true knowledge of the creator God—is transforming: instruments of war are changed into farming implements.
And I believe we are called to witness to this vision. Remember, its upon us, the church, that “the end of the ages has come” (1 Cor. 10.11). We can’t bring this vision to its completion, that’s God’s job. But we do serve the Prince of Peace who said, “Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be children of God” (Matthew 5.9, NRSV). Our savior did not come into Jerusalem on a painted war horse but on a donkey. He embraced the way of suffering love and calls his disciples to do the same. Let me put it like this: There’s something more important than being right—being reconciled! Oh, if only the church would embrace that statement. I’m not saying we throw truth out the window. Far from it. But in the midst of searching for the truth, we must be reconciling agents in our church and in our world.
Now, one more point of clarification. At this point in my life, I’m not against the use force, period. We might have to conclude that the use of force in a given situation is necessary, perhaps a necessary evil in this broken world. That aside, I want every Christian to embrace the way of peace. Then, when a path of force is being considered, I want all Christians to argue from the stance of peace, i.e., illustrate why love of enemy must be not be followed in this situation. That’s a tall order, but one we must obey. For we were enemies of God, but he made peace with us through the shed blood of his Son. “All of this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation” (2 Corinthians 5.18, NRSV)
One more thought: we can always disagree and still be brothers and sisters in Christ. Peace!
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Contagious Holiness
Holiness is contagious, and grace transforms. I believe that sentence encapsulates well the theme I was trying to explore last Sunday.
We looked at the story of Zacchaeus (Luke 19). I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say, Zacchaeus encountered the goodness of God. Jesus extends his intimacy and acceptance to Zacchaeus by inviting himself over.
Zacchaeus responds appropriately to this holy grace. He becomes a “good news” person. No more business as usual for Zacchaeus, metaphorically and literally. Zacchaeus promises to give half his income to the poor. And he promises to make restitution, paying back anyone he’s cheated fourfold. The announcement of Jesus is even more startling: “Today, salvation has come to your house.” I believe Jesus is saying in essence, Zacchaeus gets it. He has responded appropriately. He’s repented and embraced God’s call upon his life. One could argue that Zacchaeus changed his loyalties: whereas once he was dedicated to the Roman government, now he’s dedicated to God’s kingdom. He’s also changed the direction of his love: whereas once he loved money, now he loves God and God’s ways. It’s no more business as usual for Zacchaeus.
I believe we need to take note here. Holiness is contagious, and grace transforms. We know that we’ve met Christ when it’s no more business as usual. And we know that we’re growing in grace when we are leaving behind the stuff that keeps us from living in and out of God’s love. It’s true, Jesus reaches out to us and takes us in as we are. But if we say yes to him, we can’t remain the same. Perhaps, at the end of the day, there are only two ways to respond to God’s grace. We can say yes and walk in the light or we can say no and cling to our darkness. I doubt there’s any middle ground. God’s grace—when appropriated!—can only transform. Peace.
We looked at the story of Zacchaeus (Luke 19). I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say, Zacchaeus encountered the goodness of God. Jesus extends his intimacy and acceptance to Zacchaeus by inviting himself over.
Zacchaeus responds appropriately to this holy grace. He becomes a “good news” person. No more business as usual for Zacchaeus, metaphorically and literally. Zacchaeus promises to give half his income to the poor. And he promises to make restitution, paying back anyone he’s cheated fourfold. The announcement of Jesus is even more startling: “Today, salvation has come to your house.” I believe Jesus is saying in essence, Zacchaeus gets it. He has responded appropriately. He’s repented and embraced God’s call upon his life. One could argue that Zacchaeus changed his loyalties: whereas once he was dedicated to the Roman government, now he’s dedicated to God’s kingdom. He’s also changed the direction of his love: whereas once he loved money, now he loves God and God’s ways. It’s no more business as usual for Zacchaeus.
I believe we need to take note here. Holiness is contagious, and grace transforms. We know that we’ve met Christ when it’s no more business as usual. And we know that we’re growing in grace when we are leaving behind the stuff that keeps us from living in and out of God’s love. It’s true, Jesus reaches out to us and takes us in as we are. But if we say yes to him, we can’t remain the same. Perhaps, at the end of the day, there are only two ways to respond to God’s grace. We can say yes and walk in the light or we can say no and cling to our darkness. I doubt there’s any middle ground. God’s grace—when appropriated!—can only transform. Peace.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Connecting the Right Dots
What do you see when you look around? It’s a great question, a very revealing question. It can tell us an awful lot about ourselves.
When you look at a forest of trees, what do you see? A business opportunity? Sacred ground?
When you look at others, what do you see? Sex objects? Children of God?
Maybe we see nothing at all. Our senses have been dulled, and we take everything for granted.
In our text (Luke 17.11-19) there are nine lepers who don’t see anything all. They don’t connect the right dots. They’re healed of this dreaded disease, and they did not see what needed to be seen. For notice, they’re criticized by Jesus. I’m sure they were grateful. You have to be a complete dunce not to be grateful. But there’s still something lacking. They took it for granted perhaps; they did not see God’s glory or his goodness or the in-breaking Kingdom of God. Maybe they did not see anything at all other than a healing—a powerful reminder to us that healings don’t necessarily change hearts.
But there’s one who did make the right connections. One leper sees that he’s been healed, and he returns to Jesus, praising God with a loud voice. I believe what’s happening here is very profound. This man gets it. His faith has made him whole. His faith in God has enabled him to see what needs to be seen--the goodness of God, the in-breaking of God’s kingdom through Jesus. I get the sense that this one leper is ready and willing to live his entire life in gratitude for what God has done.
The same might be said of us. Faith in response to what God has done gives us the right vision of the world. Faith teaches us that life is a gift not a right. (The doctrine of the Trinity reminds that God doesn’t need anyone for he is a communion of love, but he creates out of the abundance of his love.) Faith also teaches us that without God’s mercy, we could not know the source of love from which we came. Faith gives us the right vision so that we can live rightly. And the only way to live rightly is to live with gratitude and reverence toward God and his creation. What other response can there be to a God who gives us life out of love and redeems that life in love so that we might live in and out of his love? I can’t think of any other response but to live for the glory of God. Our faith—if it’s an active faith!—should enable us to see rightly so that we can live righteously. It will make us whole. Peace.
When you look at a forest of trees, what do you see? A business opportunity? Sacred ground?
When you look at others, what do you see? Sex objects? Children of God?
Maybe we see nothing at all. Our senses have been dulled, and we take everything for granted.
In our text (Luke 17.11-19) there are nine lepers who don’t see anything all. They don’t connect the right dots. They’re healed of this dreaded disease, and they did not see what needed to be seen. For notice, they’re criticized by Jesus. I’m sure they were grateful. You have to be a complete dunce not to be grateful. But there’s still something lacking. They took it for granted perhaps; they did not see God’s glory or his goodness or the in-breaking Kingdom of God. Maybe they did not see anything at all other than a healing—a powerful reminder to us that healings don’t necessarily change hearts.
But there’s one who did make the right connections. One leper sees that he’s been healed, and he returns to Jesus, praising God with a loud voice. I believe what’s happening here is very profound. This man gets it. His faith has made him whole. His faith in God has enabled him to see what needs to be seen--the goodness of God, the in-breaking of God’s kingdom through Jesus. I get the sense that this one leper is ready and willing to live his entire life in gratitude for what God has done.
The same might be said of us. Faith in response to what God has done gives us the right vision of the world. Faith teaches us that life is a gift not a right. (The doctrine of the Trinity reminds that God doesn’t need anyone for he is a communion of love, but he creates out of the abundance of his love.) Faith also teaches us that without God’s mercy, we could not know the source of love from which we came. Faith gives us the right vision so that we can live rightly. And the only way to live rightly is to live with gratitude and reverence toward God and his creation. What other response can there be to a God who gives us life out of love and redeems that life in love so that we might live in and out of his love? I can’t think of any other response but to live for the glory of God. Our faith—if it’s an active faith!—should enable us to see rightly so that we can live righteously. It will make us whole. Peace.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
A Heart for the Missing
How easy it is to get stuck in the maintenance mode. We start to believe that everything is about me. Church—it’s about me. Jesus—he’ll make it all better for me. Children—they give meaning to my life.
I stated last Sunday that Jesus’ hometown crowd slipped into that maintenance mode very quickly (Luke 4). After hearing Jesus’ inaugural vision, they were thrilled—our hometown boy has returned to take care of us. I know the text doesn’t say that explicitly, but it’s implied in the conversation. Notice how Jesus confronts them. He anticipates their line of reasoning, saying, “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, ‘Doctor cure yourself!’” This proverb was used in antiquity to suggest that one ought to care for his own first. The hometown crowd was thinking, in essence, Jesus has returned for us, to make it all better for us. The maintenance mode.
Jesus doesn’t stay there however. He reminds the crowd with two offensive stories that he will be on the move. He’s going to keep moving, reaching out, blessing people the powers-that-be don’t really like. He will heal the sick, embrace the outcast, and call the sinner to repentance.
Why? Because God is like that—God has a heart for the missing. It’s this thought that comes to expression in the parable of the lost lamb (Luke 15). Jesus asks the question, “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?” The answer to that question is not many—not many would leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness. In a sheep-pen? Yes. With another shepherd? Yes. But not in the wilderness. Which is the point of the parable: when it comes to the father’s love, we’re not talking about playing it safe but about extravagant love. Love beyond reason. God has a heart for the missing, so Jesus won’t get sucked into the maintenance mode vortex.
All of this poses a great challenge for the church. Do we have a heart for the missing? Does our heart beat with a love for our neighbor? If we have faith—an active faith, the faith of mustard seed—then surely our church should have a heart that beats for those who do not yet know that they belong to the Father. Peace.
I stated last Sunday that Jesus’ hometown crowd slipped into that maintenance mode very quickly (Luke 4). After hearing Jesus’ inaugural vision, they were thrilled—our hometown boy has returned to take care of us. I know the text doesn’t say that explicitly, but it’s implied in the conversation. Notice how Jesus confronts them. He anticipates their line of reasoning, saying, “Doubtless you will quote to me this proverb, ‘Doctor cure yourself!’” This proverb was used in antiquity to suggest that one ought to care for his own first. The hometown crowd was thinking, in essence, Jesus has returned for us, to make it all better for us. The maintenance mode.
Jesus doesn’t stay there however. He reminds the crowd with two offensive stories that he will be on the move. He’s going to keep moving, reaching out, blessing people the powers-that-be don’t really like. He will heal the sick, embrace the outcast, and call the sinner to repentance.
Why? Because God is like that—God has a heart for the missing. It’s this thought that comes to expression in the parable of the lost lamb (Luke 15). Jesus asks the question, “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?” The answer to that question is not many—not many would leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness. In a sheep-pen? Yes. With another shepherd? Yes. But not in the wilderness. Which is the point of the parable: when it comes to the father’s love, we’re not talking about playing it safe but about extravagant love. Love beyond reason. God has a heart for the missing, so Jesus won’t get sucked into the maintenance mode vortex.
All of this poses a great challenge for the church. Do we have a heart for the missing? Does our heart beat with a love for our neighbor? If we have faith—an active faith, the faith of mustard seed—then surely our church should have a heart that beats for those who do not yet know that they belong to the Father. Peace.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Living for Others
“Our life and our death is with our neighbor. If we win our brother, we win God. If we cause our brother to stumble, we have sinned against Christ.”--St. Anthony
This quote might be difficult to embrace. We’ve been taught otherwise. In our individualistic culture, we’ve been trained to believe that I’m free to do whatever I want, whenever I want--I’m not answerable to anyone but myself.
The church believes (should believe) in an alternative way of life. In scripture we discover that we are to live with other people in mind. Our attitudes and actions should be shaped by the impact they might make on the community, on our brothers and sisters in Christ.
Isn’t that what Jesus proclaimed last Sunday? He warned against causing another to stumble: “Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to anyone by whom they come.” Paul writes a similar message in Romans 14.15: “If your brother or sister is being injured by what you eat, you are no longer walking in love . . .” Did you hear that? Maybe we should substitute the word “do” for the word “eat”--if someone is injured by what we do, we are no longer walking in love.
So the call is simple enough to understand: as disciples we are bound to one another, and we are called to live responsibly for one another. It’s not just Jesus and me but Jesus and we. Our life and our death is truly with our neighbor. Let’s live in such a way that we win our neighbor for God. Peace!
This quote might be difficult to embrace. We’ve been taught otherwise. In our individualistic culture, we’ve been trained to believe that I’m free to do whatever I want, whenever I want--I’m not answerable to anyone but myself.
The church believes (should believe) in an alternative way of life. In scripture we discover that we are to live with other people in mind. Our attitudes and actions should be shaped by the impact they might make on the community, on our brothers and sisters in Christ.
Isn’t that what Jesus proclaimed last Sunday? He warned against causing another to stumble: “Occasions for stumbling are bound to come, but woe to anyone by whom they come.” Paul writes a similar message in Romans 14.15: “If your brother or sister is being injured by what you eat, you are no longer walking in love . . .” Did you hear that? Maybe we should substitute the word “do” for the word “eat”--if someone is injured by what we do, we are no longer walking in love.
So the call is simple enough to understand: as disciples we are bound to one another, and we are called to live responsibly for one another. It’s not just Jesus and me but Jesus and we. Our life and our death is truly with our neighbor. Let’s live in such a way that we win our neighbor for God. Peace!
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Getting It Wrong--Luke 16.14-31
I don’t know if anyone is reading this, but I’ll continue to write. It’s cathartic for me. Sometimes I don’t feel good about what I said or how it might have been received; writing helps.
Last Sunday, from Luke 16.14-31, I asked the question where do we go wrong. As individuals and as communities, we can easily travel down roads that are detrimental to ourselves and others. The Christian church doesn’t have a spotless record, to say the least. Why and how do we get it wrong as Christians?
First, we go wrong in our thinking whenever we assume too quickly that God is on our side. That’s what the Pharisees were doing. They believed that wealth is next to godliness. Such a view stifles compassion. To challenge their perspective, Jesus tells a story about a divine reversal: the rich man goes to Hades; the poor man, to heaven. Jesus is not describing hell or what it might take to end up there. Instead, Jesus is drawing a large startling picture because the Pharisees are nearly blind. Jesus is saying, your thinking is skewed, your values are inverted, don’t assume God is on your side.
As I suggested last Sunday, this happens all of the time. Our own values get twisted. It’s like what Augustine said as he was trying to describe the moral decay of the Roman Empire, “People care more about having a bad house than about having a bad life.” What would he say about us today? People care more about having the wrong clothes than about living the wrong way? People care more about having a bad image than about having a bad character? I believe he might say those things. And too often, we put some sort of spiritual or godly spin on this type of thinking: “God wants me to be happy; God wants to me to be blessed.”
But Jesus challenges this view: “what is prized by human beings is an abomination in the sight of God” (Luke 16.15). Ouch! What do we value? Glitz and glamour? Wealth? The bottomline? Million dollar contracts? All of that might be an abomination. What does God value? We don’t like the answer to that question. But answer it we must. He values justice, righteousness, the poor, equity, love, humility, to name a few.
So we go wrong whenever we assume too quickly that God is on our side. We must acknowledge that he is addressing us, and we must respond to his calling, to his challenge, to be a new type of people.
Secondly, we go wrong because we do not listen very well. We stifle God’s truth. Back to the text: The rich man wants Lazarus to go back to earth to warn his brothers. Evidently, he has five other brothers who are living just like he was—without compassion, without righteousness. Abraham refuses. Not because Abraham is uncaring, but because Abraham knows that if his brothers don’t listen to Moses and the Prophets, they won’t listen to Lazarus. Did you hear that? If these brothers aren’t the type of people who are listening to Moses and the Prophets, then a miracle won’t do an ounce of good.
Again, this is what frequently happens. We hear only what we want to hear; we see only what we want to see. We listen selectively, cafeteria style—I’ll take some of that, some of that, but none of that; dessert, carbs, but no vegetables. That’s what the Pharisees did. They read scripture, took some of the verses out of context, and concluded that God blesses the righteous—wealth is next to godliness. It worked well for them, since they were, for the most part, middle-class men. But they neglected the call to justice. We can fall prey to the same temptation. We can stifle God’s truth. We can create truth and God in our own image and end up missing the mark.
God have mercy on us. We need to be the type of people who listen with every fiber of our being. It always amazes me how people can sit in church, nod their heads, and yet still live in sin. I can preach on being reconciled to others and people will leave church still remaining stuck in their stubborn ways of life. Or I can preach on following Christ, and people will refuse or do so half-heartedly and wonder why they're so unhappy. They don't listen. They have hears but do not hear. I must stop now . . . Let me know if I’m way off base. Peace!
Last Sunday, from Luke 16.14-31, I asked the question where do we go wrong. As individuals and as communities, we can easily travel down roads that are detrimental to ourselves and others. The Christian church doesn’t have a spotless record, to say the least. Why and how do we get it wrong as Christians?
First, we go wrong in our thinking whenever we assume too quickly that God is on our side. That’s what the Pharisees were doing. They believed that wealth is next to godliness. Such a view stifles compassion. To challenge their perspective, Jesus tells a story about a divine reversal: the rich man goes to Hades; the poor man, to heaven. Jesus is not describing hell or what it might take to end up there. Instead, Jesus is drawing a large startling picture because the Pharisees are nearly blind. Jesus is saying, your thinking is skewed, your values are inverted, don’t assume God is on your side.
As I suggested last Sunday, this happens all of the time. Our own values get twisted. It’s like what Augustine said as he was trying to describe the moral decay of the Roman Empire, “People care more about having a bad house than about having a bad life.” What would he say about us today? People care more about having the wrong clothes than about living the wrong way? People care more about having a bad image than about having a bad character? I believe he might say those things. And too often, we put some sort of spiritual or godly spin on this type of thinking: “God wants me to be happy; God wants to me to be blessed.”
But Jesus challenges this view: “what is prized by human beings is an abomination in the sight of God” (Luke 16.15). Ouch! What do we value? Glitz and glamour? Wealth? The bottomline? Million dollar contracts? All of that might be an abomination. What does God value? We don’t like the answer to that question. But answer it we must. He values justice, righteousness, the poor, equity, love, humility, to name a few.
So we go wrong whenever we assume too quickly that God is on our side. We must acknowledge that he is addressing us, and we must respond to his calling, to his challenge, to be a new type of people.
Secondly, we go wrong because we do not listen very well. We stifle God’s truth. Back to the text: The rich man wants Lazarus to go back to earth to warn his brothers. Evidently, he has five other brothers who are living just like he was—without compassion, without righteousness. Abraham refuses. Not because Abraham is uncaring, but because Abraham knows that if his brothers don’t listen to Moses and the Prophets, they won’t listen to Lazarus. Did you hear that? If these brothers aren’t the type of people who are listening to Moses and the Prophets, then a miracle won’t do an ounce of good.
Again, this is what frequently happens. We hear only what we want to hear; we see only what we want to see. We listen selectively, cafeteria style—I’ll take some of that, some of that, but none of that; dessert, carbs, but no vegetables. That’s what the Pharisees did. They read scripture, took some of the verses out of context, and concluded that God blesses the righteous—wealth is next to godliness. It worked well for them, since they were, for the most part, middle-class men. But they neglected the call to justice. We can fall prey to the same temptation. We can stifle God’s truth. We can create truth and God in our own image and end up missing the mark.
God have mercy on us. We need to be the type of people who listen with every fiber of our being. It always amazes me how people can sit in church, nod their heads, and yet still live in sin. I can preach on being reconciled to others and people will leave church still remaining stuck in their stubborn ways of life. Or I can preach on following Christ, and people will refuse or do so half-heartedly and wonder why they're so unhappy. They don't listen. They have hears but do not hear. I must stop now . . . Let me know if I’m way off base. Peace!
Monday, September 17, 2007
God's Grace
What an amazing story in Luke 15.11-31. To defend his ministry practices—eating with those who are despised by the religious leaders (15.1-2)—Jesus tells a story of a father with two sons.
The first son requests his inheritance early, then he squanders it in loose living and then returns home because his stomach is empty. What should a father do with a son like that?
Restitution? You need to pay back the money you’ve wasted! Interrogation? You have a lot of explaining to do! Probation? I’ll give you two or three years and then we’ll see! The father doesn’t employ any of those reasonable options.
When he sees his youngest son traveling toward the house, he runs out to meet him. That’s significant. Elderly men did not run in that culture—it’s undignified. But this father throws all social conventions out the window. He runs and hugs his son with a passionate embrace (literally in the original language: he falls onto his neck) and then he proceeds to completely restore the son to his original standing. Robes and rings were symbols of authority. Sandals were worn only by masters in the house not slaves. No probation. No restitution. No interrogation. Just full restoration!
This story is telling us something about God. His desire for a relationship with us is greater than our sin. It’s greater than an imperfect repentance, greater than any impure motives we might have for returning to him. God delights in us. He desires us. Therefore he takes us in as we are.
But we’re not done yet. This story is about a father who has two sons. The older son is not very pleased with this entire scene. He’s mad. It’s unfair. I’ve been faithful, he says in so many words. He has a good point. He’s worked hard, he’s never left, and he’s never even received a goat to celebrate with his friends.
Notice the father’s response. The father is pleading with his oldest son to come in and join the party. You see, God’s desire for a relationship with us is greater than anything, except one thing: a willingness to consent. His love respects our freedom. The story ends with us wondering, will the older son go in and join the party? Will he participate in what God is doing? Will you? Will I? All it takes is a yes, a consecration with of our entire selves to God’s love. Peace.
The first son requests his inheritance early, then he squanders it in loose living and then returns home because his stomach is empty. What should a father do with a son like that?
Restitution? You need to pay back the money you’ve wasted! Interrogation? You have a lot of explaining to do! Probation? I’ll give you two or three years and then we’ll see! The father doesn’t employ any of those reasonable options.
When he sees his youngest son traveling toward the house, he runs out to meet him. That’s significant. Elderly men did not run in that culture—it’s undignified. But this father throws all social conventions out the window. He runs and hugs his son with a passionate embrace (literally in the original language: he falls onto his neck) and then he proceeds to completely restore the son to his original standing. Robes and rings were symbols of authority. Sandals were worn only by masters in the house not slaves. No probation. No restitution. No interrogation. Just full restoration!
This story is telling us something about God. His desire for a relationship with us is greater than our sin. It’s greater than an imperfect repentance, greater than any impure motives we might have for returning to him. God delights in us. He desires us. Therefore he takes us in as we are.
But we’re not done yet. This story is about a father who has two sons. The older son is not very pleased with this entire scene. He’s mad. It’s unfair. I’ve been faithful, he says in so many words. He has a good point. He’s worked hard, he’s never left, and he’s never even received a goat to celebrate with his friends.
Notice the father’s response. The father is pleading with his oldest son to come in and join the party. You see, God’s desire for a relationship with us is greater than anything, except one thing: a willingness to consent. His love respects our freedom. The story ends with us wondering, will the older son go in and join the party? Will he participate in what God is doing? Will you? Will I? All it takes is a yes, a consecration with of our entire selves to God’s love. Peace.
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