I'm Back

It's been a while since I've blogged. I'll try to do better. What to say today? I don't really know. I'll turn to some thoughts from the sermon (7-25).

Yesterday, we looked at the main issue in Galatians--how quickly the Galatians defected from the God who called them in grace.

The Galatians were swayed by another gospel, by another version of the good news--the gospel of the law. Many believed that is what everyone needed; they believed the law is and should remain the main thing. It's what will ultimately save.

For Paul, the gospel is nothing more or less than the good news of God's kingdom. The phrase he uses in Galatians is New Creation: "For neither circumcision nor uncircumcision is anything; but a new creation is everything!" (Galatians 6.15). This New Creation/Kingdom has begun and it will come in its fullness. Between these two advents, the church is called to witness to what God intends for the entire world. This is the gospel; there is no other.

The question remains, what does it mean to be a community of this gospel? What other gospels might we be tempted to live for that keep us from representing what God envisions for the world? For the Galatians it was the law, but for us it might be something else. Thoughts?

Peace.

Practices of the Gospel

I posed the following question in yesterday's sermon, Shouldn't we embrace practices that reflect and strengthen our commitment to the God who has saved us in love?

I asked that question because of Acts 15. In that amazing story, the early church dismissed the ritualistic law as a binding force on the Christian community. But the church did not dismiss naming a form of life that reflects true gospel living. The early council affirmed that there are practices to be avoided, namely practices related to idol worship. It's important to follow the logic here: the council did not impose new ritualistic regulations on the Gentiles, rather they wanted to makes sure the Gentiles understood that they have been set free from the gods of the market and the gods of the state to serve the one true God of Israel (cf. 1 Thess. 1).

In light of this text, What would be wrong with us embracing practices that help us stay true to God--even if those practices are somewhat specific to our context? If we have truly tasted the goodness of God, what would be wrong with saying here are some structures that enable us to live in that goodness?

I can't think of anything that would be wrong with that. Can you? The next question is then, What practices should we embrace? What type of structure do we need? What do you think?

Peace.

Conversion

Last Sunday we talked about Paul's conversion found in Acts 9. What I love about this story, as well as the many other conversion stories in Acts, is that Paul's conversion is about being enlisted into God's cause. Paul, a man with a strong agenda, is changed by his encounter with the truth that Jesus is the Messiah. This is not a story of self-actualization; instead it's a story of real change because of an encounter with the truth. Paul's kingdom, his agenda, crumbled to the ground, making room for God's agenda.

I suggested the same must happen to us. The call for us is to learn to give up on trying to save ourselves through whatever means we find meaningful, and instead, to give up ourselves for Christ and his kingdom. The goal is not to make Christ relevant to our lives, but to let the Spirit transform us so that our lives become relevant to God and his kingdom.

But what does that mean? I think at a bare minimum it means that the Kingdom of God is now on our radar screens. You see, we might not know what to do. We might even feel lost in terms of direction, but there's been a change. Whereas once it was all me, myself and I; now we're thinking about and beginning to desire the truth, beauty and goodness found in God, in his Son, and in his creation.

Conversion is fundamentally a transformation of our desires. More on that later . . .

Peace.

Elder Brother, Again

I'm still thinking about the elder brother. I'm sorry, I can't help myself. I can't stop thinking about it.

The thought occurred to me this afternoon, perhaps this parable is scandalous because of our inability to perceive properly--and receive!--God's love. God's love might not be enough . . . and yet it might be too much for us.

Reading Henri Nouwen's The Return of the Prodigal Son has forced me to ask the question, Is God's love enough? The elder brother has been with his father, and his father has left the party to find him, to invite him in. The father obviously loves the elder son. But it's not enough. There's something more he desires. Control? Money? Appreciation? All of the above? Who knows? The questions remains, Is God's love enough for us? Is it enough for me?

It if it isn't enough for me, then it's easy to become filled with resentment. I will resent those who have more and who do less, find myself bitter when I'm not acknowledged for the love I give, angry when I do not receive the respect I feel I deserve, unable to rejoice with those who rejoice.

Nouwen believes the elder brother is lost in resentment. God's love is not enough, therefore, he feels cheated. He refuses to be found, resisting God's love.

But on the other hand, perhaps God's love is too much. The elder brother might resist God's love because he's not sure he wants a father who loves rebellious younger brothers with equal passion. This son of the father's has wasted the family's inheritance, weakened their social and economical standing, and yet, he is treated like a faithful prince. This is offensive to common sense morality. It's much like the parable of the workers--at the end of the day everyone received the same amount, those who worked all day and those who only worked the last hour. God's love is too much for some. I mean, honestly, do we want to sit down at a table with immoral losers who stand against all we support and now, by grace, are a part of the kingdom? Many of the Pharisees weren't interested in a such a kingdom. Are we? Is God's grace too great? Is his mercy too wonderful for us? Is his love too much? Are ready and willing to sit down at a table and fellowship with former, or current, enemies who are loved equally by God.

After all, God's grace might take us into the heart of some of our deepest fears. God's grace calls us to relinquish control. We can longer depend upon our own goodness but upon God's mercy. Furthermore, we can't dictate anymore who's in and who's out; this is God's doing. And he might very well call us to people we don't like. It's really hard to believe that God does NOT dispense his love based upon how well people behave. It's not a performance-based love. It's free for all! God's love is often too much.

If any of this is true, how do we respond? If we're still stuck, then what do we do. Nouwen suggests three things. First, let yourself be found. God wants you, let him find you. Recognize that he's been searching for you, stop running, stop working, let yourself be found. Second, trust--trust in the father's love. His love should be enough for us. Third, live with gratitude. We're called to recognize that all is a gift, the call to work early in the day and the ability to work late in the day. It's all a donation from God's love, a response to God's initiating grace.

We return to the theme from The Shack: "Learn to live loved." Easier said than done.

Peace.

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.