The Older Brother

Timothy Keller is fairly hard on the older brother (The Prodigal God). He believes the older brother is lost. His self-righteousness blinds him to the need for grace, therefore, he's not living in a relationship of joy and love with the father. Is Timothy Keller correct in his assessment? Or is he being too hard on the older brother?

I'm still thinking about it. But this is where I stand right now: the older brother's response is understandable but not necessarily excusable--it's not something we should endorse. After all, he is bitter and angry. He doesn't believe the celebration is fair; his father's passionate love has deeply offended him. So he refuses to participate in this feast of love and forgiveness, clinging to his own morality, refusing to participate in the kingdom of grace. At the end of the day, he's not too sure he wants to be a part of a family where rebellious sons are loved and embraced without restitution, without paying for their mistakes.

In light of the context--Jesus speaking to the Pharisees--this is a legitimate interpretation, I feel, of the older brother. Remember, many of the Pharisees were scandalized by Jesus because of his message of grace. They were constantly on the outside looking in. They did not see their need to repent of their self-righteousness to become a part of God's new creation.

The older brother is like that. The father is pleading with him to come in--to enter into the kingdom of love, forgiveness, and transforming grace. But he refuses.

Such an interpretation pushes us toward the heart of the gospel. The gospel is not fundamentally about morality, nor is it about immorality. Rather the gospel is first and foremost about living abundantly in Christ. It's about being a part of God's new creation, about becoming a new creature in Christ--all of which comes from God's gracious activity in our lives. The gospel is not I obey, therefore, God must accept me. Such an approach is a prison because the question becomes, "How much obedience do I owe?" The gospel instead is, I'm accepted, therefore, I obey. The life I live, I now live in Christ. This is the only stance that truly enables us to love, forgive, and bless our enemies because it recognizes that all is from grace. Perhaps that's what the older brother forgot, he forgot that it's all a gift; it all comes from grace.

I'm thinking of Paul. If anyone lived a moral life according to the law, it was Paul: "as to righteousness under the law, blameless" (Phil. 3). But he continues: "Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things, and I regard them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but one that comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God based on faith" (Phil. 3).

What matters, even for a former Pharisee like Paul, is new life in Christ and his kingdom.

Peace.

The Threat of Justice?

Glenn Beck has caused quite stir among Christians lately. On his March 2 radio show, Beck told his listeners: "I beg you, look for the words 'social justice' or 'economic justice' on your church Web site. If you find it, run as fast as you can. Social justice and economic justice, they are code words. Now am I advising people to leave their church? . . . Yes! Leave your church." Beck went on to state that "social justice" was the common rallying cry of both Nazis and Communists.

Questions naturally abound: Are those the words that come to mind when you think about Hitler and Stalin--social justice? Does Beck understand the biblical tradition? He says social justice is the forced redistribution of wealth--Does he honestly believe that's what Christians mean by social justice? (No church tradition I know of supports this.) How many Christians will follow Beck's advice? What does it mean that a conservative is threatened by Christ and the teachings of His church? These are some of the questions that I have rolling around in the back of my mind.

Regardless, there are two points that must be emphasized: First, to be a Christian is to be concerned with the left out and the left behind, the lost and the last. This is an undeniable truth. If you eliminate all of the references to caring for the poor (some 3,000 verses), you'd have a much thinner bible. Furthermore, you can't escape the call in scripture to be passionate about justice. Israel's prophets and Israel's messiah both addressed justice on a regular basis (cf. Amos 5.24; Micah 6.6-8; Luke 4.14-19--Jesus' inaugural sermon).

Secondly, for the church, there is something that takes precedence before the state. We're not called to serve God and empire. Instead we're called to pledge allegiance to Jesus and his way. At times this stance will turn us into both friends and enemies, depending on the situation and context, to the political agendas of our world. We must always remember, we are called to seek first God's kingdom and his justice (Matthew 6--justice is implied in the biblical word righteousness).

On that note, I'm starting to wonder if there isn't something much deeper at stake in this conflict--who or what will ultimately shape our allegiances? More on that later . . .

Peace.

The Cross

I'm finally back after several long, excruciating weeks of wrestling with our little development project. When I started down this path of trying to develop our property it was fun, mostly because it was new and exciting. But three years later, I'm spent. There's little joy left, just a general sense of dread. Of course I'm being a little dramatic but not terribly so. The details and the conflicts have worn me out. Yet, I still sense God is trying to teach me something through it all--that something, however, remains a mystery right now.

Regardless, I'm glad my mind is returning to Christ and his church. It's feels good to let my heart gravitate toward the things that give me joy.

So let's talk about the cross (yes, this does bring me joy). A few weeks ago, I preached a little sermon on the cross in which I asked the question, What is the cross? I defined the cross as the price we pay for obedience to Jesus and his way. The cross is not a bad back, an annoying mother-in-law, a noisy neighbor, a spiritual drought, depression, uncontrollable anxiety or even a bothersome church member. Rather, the cross is something we willingly take up, a sacrifice we make in a broken world, to follow Jesus in obedience.

The easiest way to think about this is to talk about some of our core practices. For instance, if you want to forgive, you must deny yourself and your desire for revenge, absorb much of the pain and free the perpetrator from your grip. This is free for the recipient but costly for the giver. The giver bore a cross in order to be obedient to Jesus and his way. Similarly, if you want to be generous, you must be shaped by a new way of thinking--you must recognize that we are members of one another. But to get there, you will have to deny yourself and the belief that my money is exactly that--my money!--and begin to loosen your grip in order to give. Such an action points to the cross, because you are willingly sacrificing for others.

I could go on and on. You get the point. To follow Jesus, you must take up a cross. As Bonhoeffer states, "A Christianity without the cross is a Christianity without Christ." And I might add, a discipleship without the cross is a discipleship without Christ. The cross stands before us all, calling us to come and die so that we might embrace the way of Jesus, becoming a fragrance of hope and love for a broken world.

Peace.

The Kingdom Revolution

Sunday's sermon created a real sense of dread for me. The challenge was immense--I needed to talk about God's kingdom.

As I pointed out, the Kingdom of God is central to the life and ministry of Jesus. Jesus begins his ministry in Matthew, Mark, and Luke by announcing the nearness of God's reign. Furthermore, his healings and parables point to what the kingdom is like.

Yet, talking about the kingdom is frustrating. Jesus never defined it. He never gave us a working definition. He never preached a three point sermon coupled with a poem to help us out. Instead, and perhaps this is the point, a person had to follow Jesus--watching, listening and learning--to get a sense of what the kingdom is like. In other words, you have to seek it, and then you will find it; you have to be open to it in order to receive it. Jesus implies this in his explanation for why he speaks in parables. Relying upon Isaiah, Jesus says in essence, outsiders won't get it (Mark 4.11-12). You have to seek it to see it, believe in it to find it. You have to become like children.

Therefore, those for whom the present order is a real source of comfort will always have a hard time even hearing a sermon about God's kingdom; it's so irrelevant, they might state, to my own desire and longing to make it in this modern world. Pastor, we want therapy, make God relevant to our life. Such a stance, if it exists, emphasizes greatly the need to repent (change your mind and your orientation in light of the coming kingdom). The call is radical: Make your life relevant to God's rule and reign in Jesus.

That being said, what is the kingdom? Last Sunday, I talked about God's dream for a kingdom characterized by justice, peace and righteousness found in the Old Testament. In the New Testament, along comes Jesus and says, this reign--proclaimed and longed for--has come near in me and those who follow me. The dream is becoming a reality.

But it might be more helpful, upon further reflection, to think about a revolution! The Israelites knew what we often refuse to acknowledge--this present order is not right. It's controlled by violence, greed, an unhealthy freedom from others and responsibility, selfishness, and injustice. What's needed, assuming of course that God cares deeply about his creation (the right assumption; he doesn't merely care about souls and spirits), is a revolution. The prophets dreamed of a revolution, a new government, a new community. Then Jesus comes and says, the revolution has begun. God's desire to reclaim his creation in love has started, pay attention and sign up for this is really good news.

But now we must listen carefully. We need to pay attention. We need to look long and hard. We need to listen with a spiritual attentiveness. This revolution is God's reign of peace. Jesus is creating a community where sin and evil doesn't have to reign. A community where justice prevails, where love rules, even love of enemy. A community that embraces the stranger, the alien, the orphan. A community where forgiveness is what holds us together because we are shaped by grace, generosity and joy in the Spirit, not fear and stinginess. A community where members will lay down their lives for one another, witnessing to the radical truth that Jesus is Lord and that vulnerable love will win!

Let the revolution continue, let it come in us and through us. There is no other hope.

Peace.

For Every Yes, There Must Be A No

Today we kicked off our new series on discipleship. Renouncing was the theme. To be a follower of Christ, we are called to renounce all that keeps us from exclusive loyalty to Him. We see it in many different ways throughout the Gospel of Mark, including the call of the first disciples who left their vocations to follow Jesus (cf. Mark 1).

Granted, Jesus is not here, physically that is, calling us to leave our jobs and homes and follow him. Nonetheless, we still experience the call. And the call is somewhat basic to anything in life--whenever we find a treasure, we turn away from the familiar to embrace the new. When we fall in love, we break off old ties for this new person. When we find a new hobby, we renounce other potential distractions.

Similarly, in light of the good news, we turn away from the old. The old news is the typical narrative of self, sin, violence, and hopelessness--a world caught in a cycle from which it can't liberate itself. The new is what God has done and is doing through Jesus. It is Jesus who can lead us out of this mess to our true home. In light of such wonderful news, we renounce. We renounce the old, the familiar, and the comfortable for the new, the good, and the beautiful.

Worship Forum Reflections

Last Sunday we had a great discussion together in our open forum.

For those of you who missed it, I talked about the importance of worship for the life of a believing community. Then I presented three potential problems in the form of questions that hinder us from coming together in meaningful worship: 1) Does Sunday work anymore? There are more activities on Sunday than ever before, crowding out our commitment to church. 2) Does 10:30 work? Some Sundays begin with about 10-12 people and then end with 85. Do we need to change the time? 3) Does our worship work? Many seem uninterested, choosing to read or talk during the service. Is our worship no longer connecting with you?

After a healthy discussion, it seemed as if the general consensus was that Sunday at 10:30 is not perfect, but it's as good as any other option. Likewise, worship does not meet everyone's expectations (it never will), but for the most part, it's effective. What's needed instead of a sweeping change is to reflect upon our priorities, about what it means to belong to a community dedicated to worshipping God.

So here's the challenge that emerged from the discussion: Let's consider making a concerted effort to arrive at 10:20, to greet others, find our places, and get ready to worship. Here's an easy way to remember it: 10:20 in 2010. I know there will be days when you'll be late; it happens to all of us, including yours truly; and of course, I'd rather have all of you late than not at all. That aside, it would be fun to reverse the current trend and start service 80% full.

Also, I would encourage all of us to think a little bit about what it means to honor the Sabbath. This is complicated, I know. We don't want a legalistic standard, but what messages are we sending to our children if church is what we do when we don't have anything else going on? What is a good reason to miss? There are many different responses to that question. In the meantime, let's keep discussing, thinking, and praying about it.

Peace.

Vacation Questions

Nearly everything I've experienced on vacation has made me think about the church--most of it troubling (I can run on vacation, but I can't hide). First, I've been reading The Poisonwood Bible (a book about a well-meaning but terribly destructive pastor who's stuck in his own stubborn ignorance and therefore never helps anyone, not even his family). Then my wife and I watched Doubt (a movie that forces you to side with either a corrupt priest or a stern pharisaic nun; you must choose which one is right--I think the priest is as guilty as sin, my wife believes the nun is). Finally, I was introduced to the Internet Monk, a blog that sharply criticizes certain elements of Christianity. Although he doesn't say anything I haven't already heard or thought before, his blog caused me to reflect yet again on the destructive tendencies inherent in religious certainty.

These encounters create for me a real sense of angst. I start to ask myself hard questions: What is the point of church? Where do we go wrong? Why do we so often get it wrong? What should church look like? How should we preach and teach? What's the point of everything we do?

The answer to these questions aren't obvious, at least not to me. I don't even want to try and answer them right now, except to say, I am hungry for something I can't quite articulate. I want something that's real, thoughtful, grace-filled, and life-transforming. Something that touches our everyday world with beauty and goodness. I'm tired of sermonizing, even though to my own shame, I've spent too much time doing it. I'm tired of empty promises and simplistic slogans. I want something less than what is often offered and yet something more, something deeper.

I'm still thinking, still searching . . . hoping to find . . . hoping God will lead.

Peace.