Mark 10:32-45 - The Upside-Down Kingdom

As Jesus' ministry is leading to something big, the disciples are vying for position. James and John (with support from their mother according to Matthew 20) put their bid in for top positions under Jesus' rule.

Don't we all feel the pull? We long for significance, to be seen as someone special. But Jesus says the one who wants to be great must become a servant.

In one of his novels from the 19^th century, George MacDonald has a character speculate that in heaven serving others will be the highest goal. Every citizen of that kingdom will seek ways to serve.  The one who excels in service will be held in high regard.

What a different value system that is from the one we live in. Can you imagine if the service industry commanded the highest regard and wages in our society? Housekeepers and janitors would be highly sought after and paid a premium. Taxi drivers would be seen as community leaders. Wait staff at restaurants would be generously compensated according to their skill at serving others. Those being waited on would be aware of how lazy and unproductive they appeared compared to the clean, industrious character of those waiting on them. They would be expected to value not only every act of service they received but the extraordinary grace of those rendering that service.

That's not the type of world we live in now, but as citizens of the kingdom of God can we nurture that value system within ourselves? Can we see those serving us as offering prime examples of the lifestyle to which we aspire?

We tried... but we couldn't do it.

Mark 9:14-29

Peter, James, and John were up on the mountain with Jesus having a fantastic experience.  The rest of the twelve disciples were left behind.  Not on a mountain.  No spiritual high for them.  They were down in the lowlands trying unsuccessfully to heal a boy brought to Jesus. Unsuccessfully is the key word here.  They tried, but accomplished nothing.  Rather than healing the boy, they ended up standing around arguing with the teachers of the law.

It's not as though they hadn't cast out demons before.  In chapter 6, Mark tells us Jesus sent out the Twelve in pairs with "authority over unclean spirits."  Mark 6:13 says: "They drove out many demons and anointed sick people with oil and healed them."  But that was then and this was now.  As any good investment firm will tell you concerning stocks, "Past performance does not necessarily indicate future results."

What made the difference? Why were they powerless in this case?  When they asked Jesus about it he said, "This kind can come out only by prayer."

Prayer?

How much prayer?  What kind of prayer?  Is he talking about prayer in the moment when one faces the unclean spirit or an ongoing prayer life that prepares one for facing many things, including unclean spirits?

And what does Jesus mean by, "This kind..."?  Is he referencing the type of "unclean spirits" that cause what we would now call epileptic fits?  Are they different from other unclean spirits?  Is epilepsy particularly difficult to heal by miraculous means?

Whatever is happening here, I can certainly identify with failure when trying to make a difference in my world. Not that I have often tried to cast out unclean spirits or cure epilepsy, but I have longed to see a miracle in the lives of those who are suffering.  Now, as then, I suspect prayer is the key.  As I pray for those around me to the point of moving into their suffering, I am changed in ways that gradually start to make a difference.

Much of the physical healing Jesus did in 1st-century Palestine would be handled by modern medicine today.  The blind see, the deaf hear, and the lame walk!  Still, we need miracles in our world.  We are desperate for inner healing.  Unclean spirits manifest themselves in the form of addictions, emotional turmoil, anger, and abusive attitudes.

Miraculous physical healing when we grow weary of doctors and physical ailments would be wonderful, wouldn't it? But how much more important is spiritual healing?  Is that where we should be focusing our prayers?

The Way of the Cross -- February 14, 2016

Scripture focus:  Mark 8:27-9:1

John the Baptist was dead. This son of Jesus' mother's relative and close friend, only a few months older than Jesus. When Jesus began his ministry he went to John to be baptized. Some of Jesus' disciples were first John's disciples. When John was imprisoned he sent a message to Jesus asking if he was “the one who is to come or should we expect someone else?” (Matthew 11:3). He was sitting in prison and wanted to make sure he was on the right track. Now his ministry was over. He had criticized King Herod for marrying his sister-in-law and it cost him his life.

Imagine the grief Jesus must have felt. John the Baptist, his friend, his relative, that voice crying in the wilderness, now silenced forever.

In last week's session we found Jesus looking for a chance to get alone with God for some serious prayer time after hearing the news of John's death. When crowds of people followed him to his solitary place, however, he had compassion on them. He taught them. When he realized they were hungry, he multiplied a few loaves and fish to feed them. Then he sent them away and continued on to his time of prayer. It was following that time in the presence of almighty God that he was so uplifted he could walk on water.

Now Jesus is with his disciples in Caesarea Philippi, away from the crowds in Galilee. He's about to break the news to them. He realizes that, like John the Baptist, he is on a path that will lead to death sooner rather than later.

Many times we are reluctant to see Jesus as fully human. We see him as all-knowing, fully aware of his life's path from the moment he comes to John for baptism if not before. But what if this was not the case? What if he was finding his way like the rest of us through prayer and meditation, dependent on the guidance of the Spirit of God for every decision along the way? What if it wasn't until he heard of the death of John and turned to the Father in his grief that he realized he too was headed toward a violent end?

We have been talking about the many ways Jesus didn't follow the expected pattern. His was new wine. Here he becomes even more surprising, talking about the coming end of his life instead of plans for years of successful ministry. No wonder Peter tried to persuade him to think again. Are we prepared for unexpected shifts as we follow Jesus? Will we follow him even if it means giving up the life we have planned? For most of us, our faith is unlikely to lead to directly to a physical death any time soon, but there are many other ways to die.

Slipped into this message is the promise of life on the other side of death. Does that promise make death -- physical or metaphorical -- any easier? What do you think?

What you have looks GOOOODDD!

Adultery -- having sexual relations with another man's wife.  In a patriarchal society everything is from the man's perspective.  If the command "love you neighbor as yourself" summarizes God's law concerning human relationships, it's not difficult to see that having sexual relations with the neighbor's wife is near the top of unloving acts toward that neighbor.  Once again, however, Jesus moves from the outward action to the inner intent.  If a man's eye and imagination lingers over the figure of his neighbor's wife, is he not already failing to love and honor his neighbor?

In our sex-focused society we tend to dwell on the lust here rather than the endangered relationship between the two men involved.  Jesus is focusing on that relationship.  The woman and the sexual desire are not central to the message we need to hear.  The message is this:  Loving one's neighbor goes beyond actions and involves what is happening in our hearts.

Will I care enough about my neighbor to refrain from gazing lustfully on what he has and focus on loving him as a person?  And, in our society where women are recognized as people in their own right, will I love her as a person?  Will I look past her desirable looks and confident, flirty manner and see and value and love the person within?  If her husband or something else she has is attractive to me will I still see her as a valuable individual in her own right apart from those "things" that stir up desire within me?

Any application of this passage that moves away from the underlying principle of love for one's neighbor -- in this case the husband of the desirable woman -- may contain valuable lessons supported by other passages of scripture, but seems to me to miss what Jesus is really saying.  Love is not just an action verb; it goes much deeper than that to confront the covetous, dishonoring thoughts within us.

You're Killing Me!

In last week's passage (Matthew 5:17-20), Jesus spoke of the law as a whole.  This week we look at the first of six specific examples.  It comes straight from the Ten Commandments:  Thou shalt not kill (Exodus 20:13 KJV).

There have always been exceptions to that command, some of which are included in the law itself.  Multiple violations were punishable by stoning.  To death.  Capital punishment is part of the same law that forbids taking the life of another.  On top of that, there are the later conquests by the Israelites when God commanded that no lives be spared.

Instead of examining the exceptions, however, when taking a life is a legitimate action by an individual or nation, Jesus goes deeper, into the heart that fails to value the lives of others.  He speaks of words that take life from others.

When I tell someone they are a fool, I show disregard for the fragile soul within that person.  I don't care that my pronouncement is killing something precious within the other person.  Their fragile inner life is of no concern to me.  I congratulate myself on my ability to identify foolish acts and the people who commit them.  And as I toss the word "fool" around something dies within the heart of those who are unable to refute my words for whatever reason.  I kill their confidence, their joy, their dignity as a person.  My words crush their spirit.

But, really, hellfire?  For calling someone a fool?  For recognizing that someone is acting foolishly and telling them straight up?  What's up with that?

I find it helpful to view hell not as some faraway place and time but having the same characteristics as the kingdom of God -- "now and not yet".  Hell is already present in this life in the form of unpleasant consequences for straying from the law of God.

So ... how does sucking the life out of someone by labeling them as a fool cause me to feel the fire of hell coming too close for comfort?  Several ways.  When I label someone as a fool it puts distance between us.  There is a rift in our relationship.  They are hurt, dying inside; I am triumphant over them.  We are both dealing with a broken relationship.  We are no longer relaxed companions on a journey.  Which leaves us both more isolated than we were before.  Loneliness is hell.  When I diminish others in a way that prompts them to draw back from me, my own life is diminished because I have fewer (if any) strong, healthy relationships.  I too die a little inside as a result of my disregard for the inner life of others and their intrinsic worth in my world.

Murder, extinguishing life in another, goes way beyond physical death.  Jesus is taking us deeper, fleshing out -- fulfilling -- the law by driving into the principles behind it.  He is labeling all aspects of life as "FRAGILE:  Handle with Care!"

What do you think?  Have words and actions from others caused you to die a little inside?  Does that make them murderers?  Have you ever been guilty of murder when seen in this light?  I have.  And it's something I deeply regret and for which I need forgiveness and grace.

More righteous than these

The SALT group at the Odon Church of the Nazarene has been going through the Sermon on the Mount on Sunday mornings. The past two weeks have been about being salt and light in the world. We're now ready for Matthew 5:17-20.  It will be our topic of discussion for Sunday morning, December 29th.

From the NIV:

17 “Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets; I have not come to abolish them but to fulfill them. 18 For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth disappear, not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law until everything is accomplished. 19 Therefore anyone who sets aside one of the least of these commands and teaches others accordingly will be called least in the kingdom of heaven, but whoever practices and teaches these commands will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 20 For I tell you that unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven.

What radical stuff this is! How could anyone possibly be more righteous than the Pharisees and teachers of the law? They were the most righteous people around! If you weren't already aware of that fact, all you had to do was ask them. They spent more energy studying and observing the law handed down from Moses than anyone. As I once heard a pastor tell a new convert who was asking too many questions, "The difference between us is that I have been schooled in these matters and you have not." Matter settled. The authority on Scripture had spoken.

And yet ... Jesus said we needed to do better. How is this possible?

In his exposition on Matthew for The Interpreter's Bible, George A. Buttrick suggests four dimensions of deficiency to the righteousness of the Pharisees and scribes.

1. "Their righteousness was not long enough. It had no reach... They drew their robes tightly around them to avoid contamination."

2. "Their righteousness was not broad enough. Too often their religion narrowed itself down to prohibitions."

3. "Their righteousness was not deep enough... They had no deep-probing eyes of love" -- to detect pure motives behind a person's actions that might not meet the letter of the law.

4. "Their righteousness was not high enough. It was satisfied; it had no 'beyond' to beckon it, no risks, no aspiration, no abandon of worship. It was a low-vaulted and formal righteousness."

All of those four deficiencies have substance to them, but I am particularly drawn to the last. I have seen multiple examples of people lowering the bar for righteousness so that their current condition meets the goal. "Well, of course, we can't be expected to be gentle and kind when we're having a bad day! It's simply human to snap at people under such conditions." Rather than lowering the standards to fit where I am, I am much more excited to think about the possibilities of where I can be in days to come. Of course, this requires trust in God's grace to accept me where I am until I can more up higher, but, fortunately, grace is freely offered during these, our growing years.

What do you think? Which, if any, of the four "not enough" statements most speaks to you?

Other thoughts on the passage?

Feel free to comment here or on Facebook (if you came here from there) or at the Odon Church of the Nazarene, 633 East Elnora Street in Odon, Indiana, at 9:30 on Sunday morning.

Crucifixion and Mockery

"The Hunger Games" came out in theaters last week. My husband has seen the trailer and is put off by the violence. He who enjoys action shows and whose television viewing often subjects me, in the next room, to sounds of seemingly endless terror and screaming, is recommending that we skip this movie because of the violence. I, on the other hand, have read the book and am seriously considering watching the movie, even though I generally avoid shows with violence. The book series is part of a larger discussion and the movie is now part of the discussion.

To watch or skip "The Hunger Games" is a choice. To encounter or avoid the gruesome details of crucifixion may not be a choice this coming week. Holy Week often subjects me to far more detail of death by crucifixion than is necessary for me to appreciate Jesus' sacrifice in going to the cross. I am so put off by the horror of it no room is left to contemplate the significance of it. It's too gruesome and unbearable to get my mind around.

What is often left out of those graphic descriptions of Jesus' death is the mockery that is described with more detail than the crucifixion in the gospels. In a way, that is a blessing. I can identify better with the strong emotions stirred up by mocking and better admire Jesus' strength in having the resources to silence his tormentors and not using those resources.

I have never been physically tortured but I have certainly experienced scorn and disdain. I am familiar with the inner response that would give almost anything to turn the tables on those laughing, particularly when they are completely ignorant of the facts behind what they see. How grateful I am that those who insist on filling in the blanks concerning the crucifixion, assuming horror will endear the crucified Jesus to me, generally look right past the mockery and allow me to take that mental journey on my own.

I'm sure many people discount the mockery as insignificant compared to the horror of being nailed to a cross and left to suffer agony until death provides a final escape from pain. But it's Jesus' ability to let his mockers have the last word that day which makes me say, "Hallelujah! What a Savior!"

What will you do about Jesus?

This morning we talked about Jesus being on trial before the Jewish Sanhedrin and the Pilate and then the crowd. He was condemned to death in each setting for different reasons.

The Jewish leaders saw Jesus as a threat to their grip on the Jewish people. He was stepping outside the boundaries they so carefully maintained.

Pilate realized public sentiment was against Jesus and the best way to keep the peace was to give the Jewish leaders and the crowd influenced by those leaders what they wanted.

We struggled a little with the mob mentality of the crowd. Why were they so set on seeing Jesus crucified? Were they primarily concerned with freeing Barabbas? Were they swayed by the Jewish leaders who had condemned Jesus to death? Did they see public executions as a diversion and Jesus as an expendable life?

As we moved on to the “so what?” question, I pointed out that we all face the question of what to do with Jesus (or whatever truth about God we are given). Will we reject him from our lives? Will we follow those who feed us a watered-down version of Jesus’ teachings that doesn’t challenge the status quo in order to keep the peace? Will we overlook the hard teachings of Jesus rather than submit to his authority? Will we join those around us when they shout “Crucify him!” rather than drawing the attention of the angry mob to ourselves by choosing actions that don’t fit in?

These are questions we face every day. What will you choose today?

Sorrow in the Garden of Gethsemane

This past Sunday's lesson was about Jesus praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. One thing that struck me from the scripture this time around was the word "sorrow". The gospel of Mark records Jesus as saying, "My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death" (Mark 14:34 NIV)

Sorrow. Is that what most people feel when facing death?

It seems like most people read that word and change its sense to something else, something more like most of us would feel in the face of inevitable torture and death. Fear, maybe. Apprehension. An overwhelming compulsion to either fight or flee from what was to come. A natural aversion to death. But sorrow isn't apprehension. It's a different feeling altogether.

Other people see "sorrow" and pull in an eternity of sin to explain it. As one songwriter put it: "He had no tears for His own griefs, but sweat-drops of blood for mine," and "He took my sins and sorrows; He made them His very own."* In that view, Jesus was overwhelmed by the sorrow of all the wrongs done by all the people who ever had or would live.

Those people may be right, but it requires a more mystical view of Jesus than fits well with my personal theology.

My trusty World Book dictionary defines sorrow as: grief, sadness, or regret. It raises an interesting question. What would cause such depth of grief, sadness, or regret in the depth of Jesus' soul? I wish I could get inside his head and figure out what was going on.

Some possibilities:

• Thirty-three years and it's over? Such a short time to experience life in this world. How sad to reach the exit door so quickly and so much sooner than would have been necessary apart from the dark hearts of the religious leaders. So many years left by any physical measure and yet the thread of life is coming to an end.

• There are so many things left undone! So many more people who need a loving touch and healing. So many more stories to tell. So many more days of ministry. Three years is barely a start! How grievous to see it come to an end so quickly.

• The disciples still don't get it. What will happen to them when they're cut loose so soon before they're ready? If only there were one more trip to Ceasarea to do some more discipling. As it is, they're going to run for their lives the minute the going gets tough. They are simply not ready to be left on their own.

• How sad that a few people with evil intent will put an end to it all. What a tragedy sin is in this world. (That's the closest I can come to Jesus being overwhelmed by sorrow for "my sins".)
  

Sorrow. Grief. Regret. Oh, for one more year, one more month even. One more day to walk next to the Sea of Gallilee and teach the souls so hungry to hear the good news. Oh, to break through the blindness and deafness that has led to this place. How sad that it has come to this so quickly.

Yes, Sunday was coming. There would be resurrection and eternal glory. But life as a man in this world was coming to a tragic close with tasks undone.

Could this be the explanation for Jesus' sorrow? It's interesting to think about anyway.

What do you think?

*"My Savior's Love" by Charles H. Gabriel, 1905

Sorrow and Suffering -- faithful companions

In 1955 Hannah Hurnard published Hinds' Feet on High Places, an allegory featuring Much-Afraid who was called by the Chief Shepherd to climb from the Valley of Humiliation to the High Places. She had two traveling companions for the journey. They were named Sorrow and Suffering. In our Hebrews passage for this week, we discover that Jesus also walked with these companions and learned obedience from them.

The problem of pain and suffering is perhaps one of the oldest and most puzzling mysteries of life, particularly for those who believe the universe was created and is even now overseen by a God whose essence is love. I don't know the answers to the questions along this line that have been discussed throughout the ages, but I find it interesting that suffering is presented here as qualifying Jesus to be our high priest. Are there desirable character traits that can be developed by no other means? Are Sorrow and Suffering somehow essential to spiritual growth? Do they shape us in a fashion that cannot be accomplished by any other force?

The writer to the Hebrews notes in 5:2-3 that an earthly priest is "able to deal gently with those who are ignorant and going astray" because he himself is subject to weakness and obliged to "offer sacrifices for his own sins." However, in the case of Jesus, the writer notes a few verses later, it is the "prayers and petitions" he offered up "with loud cries and tears" as he "learned obedience from what he suffered" that qualifies him to be "high priest in the order of Melchizedek."

In my half-century of life, I have not encountered nearly so much pain as many of the people around me. Yet, I can see that I am a better person because of some of life's challenges -- more empathetic and caring. The "light and momentary troubles" (2 Cor. 4:17) that have come my way have been good for me. Perhaps learning obedience and submission during the tough times of life is preferable to being broken by the pain of sin and has the same effect of teaching us "to deal gently with those who are ignorant and going astray."

I certainly have no plans to go looking for painful experiences for the sake of building character. I figure trouble can find me plenty well without me going out looking for it. Still, it makes times of trouble more bearable to realize that there are useful lessons to be learned from those faithful companions called Sorrow and Suffering, lessons which can qualify those who suffer to share the burdens of those around them.

The Sabbath and Faith

More and more, I associate the call to Sabbath rest in the Bible with faith. It requires faith to set aside the urgent tasks of living and take one day off every week. I must believe that what I can accomplish in six days is enough. And when I realize that it is obviously not enough, it takes faith in the love of God, the grace of God, to believe that submissive obedience counts more than accomplishment. I haven't done enough and yet ... today I will let it all go and simply rest. By faith, I believe that the world will not end if I quit spinning plates for one day. I can give them one final whirl on Saturday evening and then let them go until Monday with faith that the tasks I set aside will still be there waiting for me if they need to be done.

I find the church's treatment of the fourth Commandment a never-ending irony. Christians hold up the 10 Commandments as sacred and eternally valid -- except the fourth one. Only the fifth comes close to it for disregard. It's amazing how little popularity the positive "Thou shalt" commands have in comparison to those in the "Thou shall not" category.

In the case of the fourth commandment, I suspect a fear of hypocrisy softens the voice of the church. After all, the bulk of the 'work' of the church happens on Sunday, the Christian 'Sabbath.' There are sermons to preach, lessons to teach, tithes to collect, services to conduct, prayers to be prayed, music to be played, special emphases to be emphasized. And since we all have the day off, it's a good time to call a meeting and conduct church business. In between all the church activity, we'll fit in Sunday dinner and maybe watch some football or run to Wal-Mart. That's the current pattern. My grandmother used to do her "calling" on Sunday afternoons -- visiting the sick and elderly. Her Sunday were just as full, if not more so. Were they more holy?

It requires faith to push aside the urgency of our work and deliberately rest. Protecting sacred space in the week isn't easy. It requires faith that it's worth it simply because God ordained it. And it sometimes means accepting the label of hypocrite when declining to add another event to one's Sunday schedule. I regularly inconvenience people by resisting their requests to practice music at 9:00 am before Sunday School begins at 9:30. I shift as much activity as possible to other days, giving Sunday a restful rhythm of preparation, gathering, low-stress dining, relaxing, and gathering again. I accept interruptions to that flow as acceptable exceptions by God's grace, even as I invest energy in making sure the exceptions don't take up permanent residence. Part of the faith required for observing a Christian Sabbath is believing that every moment of the day is sacred but that inactivity isn't the only way to relax.

More and more, I associate the call to Sabbath rest with faith, faith that I am not so essential to the business of the world that I can't set it all aside for one day a week; faith that the disapproval of those whom I disappoint or irritate as I protect that sacred space is fully offset by the benefits of obedience; faith that being 'hypocritical' or 'inconsistent' for allowing some activities into the day while rejecting others will not significantly harm my witness as a follower of Jesus Christ; faith that there is a God who is more pleased to see me rest than take on more work.

I heartily recommend guarding some sacred space each week. It's a good reminder that the world is not our master. And, just as tithing our money is the first step toward fiscal responsibility, carving out space in our schedules is a great start for effective time management. If we all committed ourselves to a restful and rhythmic weekly sabbath, I suspect our Sunday schedules would become simpler and we would be healthier.

The Glory of God

Then Moses said, "Now show me your glory."

And the LORD said, "I will cause all my goodness to pass in front of you, and I will proclaim my name, the LORD, in your presence. I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy, and I will have compassion on whom I will have compassion. But," he said, "you cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live" - Exodus 33:18-20.

What does the face of God look like? God told Moses that no one could see His face and live. But in Hebrews 1:3 we're told that the Son is "the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being." In Jesus, long centuries after Moses, we can finally look on the "radiance of God's glory" and live.

So what does "the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being" look like with flesh on? Is it a man with a halo and glowing countenance dressed in brilliant white robes? That might fit with the description of "someone 'like a son of man' " in Revelation 1:13, but not so well with the man Jesus of Nazareth found in the gospels. No, in Jesus we find humility. He's hanging out in the hills of Galilee, eating with tax collectors and sinners, having his feet bathed by the tears and wiped with the hair of a woman of ill repute. He's teaching ordinary folks on ordinary hillsides or from ordinary fishing boats, seemingly an ordinary man by every measure other than having the power to heal and extraordinary authority for teaching. There seems to be little about him that catches the notice of the movers and shakers of his world. The religious leaders let him go on as long as they did out of fear of the people who adored him, not because they saw anything to fear in Jesus himself.

So what does it look like when we don the "radiance of the glory of God" and become "god-ly"? Do we have an angelic glow about us? If the "exact representation of [God's] being" -- Jesus -- blended so well into his daily world, should we expect to be noticed and awarded with honor and status? Should we expect the bulk of our ministry to be done in a public way in our "Jerusalem" or will we too be assigned radiate the glory of God in quiet unobtrusive ways on the backroads of "Galilee"?

As one who lives and does ministry out far from the spotlights, I find it interesting that our chief model of what God looks like in human flesh spent most of his life far from the glitz and glamor of the centers of power in his world.

I have often wondered what prompted people healed by Jesus to glorify God rather than worshiping the man who had touched them. Perhaps there's something to be said for being so extremely ordinary in appearance and lifestyle that it's obvious that any power and glory being demonstrated through us has to trace back to God.

Bible illiteracy

People don't read like they used to. Newspaper offices are closing. Magazines are struggling to survive. Things are changing. I work in a library. If we were to base our spending decisions totally on demand, we would move out the books to make room for more videos and computer stations.

As literacy fades in our society, how will the Bible retain its place of influence? It has survived years of distance from the original authors and languages. It has been made readily available by means of the printing press and a world that produces books easily and economically. It is the all-time bestseller. But can it continue to be influential if people simply quit reading?

I was in a Bible study this week that arrived at the banks of the Red Sea with the Egyptians in hot pursuit. The pillar of cloud separated the Israelites from their pursuers and an east wind blew all night, piling up the water and exposing dry ground for crossing. One of the group expressed surprise concerning the long night of wind. In his mental picture, Moses (AKA Charlton Heston) holds his rod over the water and it divides like magic, no wind required. The most popular video version of the story doesn't quite jive with the biblical account behind it. If that's true for action scenes such as this, is it evern conceivable to consider converting the Bible to video format?

The good news in all this is that people are still acquiring the necessary skills for reading the Bible. They may be spending less time doing sustained reading of print material, but text continues to be used widely on the internet, perhaps the strongest replacement for the print material that was being consumed twenty-five years ago (well into the age of television). Literacy is still important to our society.

Still, how can we motivate people to include time with the Bible in their days? How can we form biblically literate disciples of Jesus Christ? How can we persuade them to turn off their iPods long enough to focus on a chapter or two from the living Word of God? Would it be better to somehow get an audio version of the Bible onto their iPods?

The Bible has survived a lot of challenges over the years. It will be interesting to see how it comes through this one.'

Driving out the moneychangers

From the WordAction "teaching methods" for 9/13/09 regarding the persecuted church:

"Is it time for Christians to turn the other cheek? Or is it time to drive out the moneychangers?"

What a loaded question this seems! Maybe I'm bringing my own experience into it, but it seems to me that there's an underlying bias in it, that there's a "correct" answer and it isn't the "do nothing" option of turning the other cheek. Christians are being tortured and killed! We can't stand by silently while it happens.

My first response to the question is to question its validity. It gives us two mutually-exclusive responses. Either we let the persecution continue without protest or we wade in and do our best to make it stop, even if it means resorting to violence.

Do those two choices really exhaust our full range of possible responses to persecution of Christians around the world? Am I alone in perceiving the first choice as representing the option of non-engagement? Does it, for others, bring up, as it ought to, scenes of those who returned to minister to the Auca Indians in Ecuador following the death of Jim Elliot and three other missionaries?

Driving out the moneychangers is a curious scenario to bring into the discussion. The moneychangers in the Gospels were turning the worship of God into a commercial enterprise and as a result making worship difficult for those entering the temple courts. Who in the current story of the persecuted church fits that role? Is it possible to find "moneychangers" outside the walls of the church?

Another nagging aspect of bringing up the encounter between Jesus and the moneychangers is that it was one more step toward the cross. It happened at the beginning of his last week in Jerusalem. By the end of the week he was dead and we can presume that all those tables were back in place. While Jesus' action certainly wasn't pointless, one has to take the long view to see any benefit from it. In the short term, it simply gave the religious leaders one more reason to kill him without resolving anything about Jewish worship in Jerusalem.

Let's look at our options again. Is it time to minister to those who persecute us without retaliation? Is it time to focus on tearing down the barriers to worship erected by those seeking personal profit through religious enterprise even if it costs us everything? Is it time to try to overturn the activities of our persecutors with a whip, realizing that the attempt will likely cost us our lives? Is this a call to embrace martyrdom on behalf of the persecuted church? Will those who choose that option act alone or will they stir up others to fight and die with them -- or maybe on their behalf?

One of the presumptions behind the question is that it is time to do something to stop persecution of Christians around the world. Will we also seek to stop persecution of people from other religions? Would it be best to stop all violence in the world that occurs to any person for any reason? (If that were our goal, wouldn't it be intuitively obvious that it couldn't be done by means of violence?) Why are we primarily concerned about persecution against Christians? Is it because we fear it might someday be us?

Who knows what the Bible says?

From the WordAction lesson exposition for 9/6/09:

Because Scripture comes from the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, the proper interpretation of Scripture cannot reside in individuals alone. Rather, it is in the community of the Holy Spirit, the Church. -- Roger Hahn

This statement cautions us to bring the truth we find in the Bible into the community of believers for evaluation and discussion rather than relying on our own ability to comprehend Scripture. It's a good reminder. In my experience, however, I find few people developing their own take on Scripture. What I see instead reminds me of the scene in Exodus 20 where the people "stayed at a distance and said to Moses, 'Speak to us yourself and we will listen. But do not have God speak to us or we will die.' " Many church attenders, it seems, rely completely on other people to tell them what the Bible says. Few are willing to invest the time and effort needed for personal Bible study.

To see where this leads, we need only to look back to the time when books were rare and literacy uncommon. Can church authorities today better resist the temptation to do Bible interpretation in a way that furthers their own goals? Can we grasp the full message of the Bible through regular church attendance or do we need to read it for ourselves?

It would be nice to think that today's religious leaders are immune to temptation to insert a personal agenda into their messages to the people they teach, that our preachers and teachers can be trusted to give us an accurate portrayal of God's Word. But the temptation is subtle and the results often beyond detection by those without a personal grasp of Scripture. To neglect personal Bible study is to open ourselves up to false doctrines. Just as we need community to shape our personal interpretations, we need personal study to shape the mindset of the community.

What a long way we are from the medieval church! We now have ready access to the Bible in compact, inexpensive manifestations. We have a choice of translations with tremendous scholarship behind them. Here in America, we are almost 100% literate, but those who, for whatever reason, prefer to listen rather than read can readily find audio versions of Scripture. How many people through the ages have given their lives to the work of making Bibles available to us in our own language? How many hours and years of effort are represented by the Bibles gathering dust in our homes?

Yes, we need community. We also need people within the community who can bring fresh insights to the group from their personal Bible study. We neglect our Bibles between Sundays to the detriment of the community we trust to interpret Scripture for us.

The Wrath of God

This week's WordAction lesson is from Revelation 16 where the seven bowls of God's wrath are poured out. The lesson writer makes the point that "little is said from pulpits today about the wrath of God." He blames this on "cowardice and compromise, ... doubt and disbelief," noting that "modern pulpits ... are too often occupied by persons who are eager for acceptance, prestige, and reward."

Ironically, I find there is more risk in focusing on the love of God than on the wrath of God. I have been reminded several times that I need to "teach the truth." That "truth" would include not only the news that God is love and that there is a heaven to gain but also a strong warning that "the finally unrepentant shall suffer eternally in hell." (Manual, Church of the Nazarene, Article XVI.) Failing to include God's wrath in one's teaching is certainly not the road to acceptance, prestige, and reward where I teach! Rather, it can easily lead to accusations of being "soft on sin" and possible loss of position. Even those who want to focus on God's love for themselves like to hear and talk about the wrath coming on those who aren't walking the straight and narrow path.

Still, I don't focus much on the wrath of God. I grew up with an image of a frowning, disapproving Creator. Sure the song said: "the Father up above is looking down in love," but my experience with people who loved me provided plenty of evidence that love didn't mean an absence of disapproval and rebuke. With so few people who seemed to actually like me even when I put on my best face, how could I hope to earn the approval of a God who saw my every sin, heard my every lie and unkind word, and knew my every ugly thought? What a hopeless task it had to be to please God!

One of the stated goals of this week's lesson is "to place our complete trust in God and His mercy." As I have contemplated all this, it has struck me that, although I talk about God's love far more than His wrath, I actually place a lot of confidence, perhaps even "complete trust," in the justice of God as it is built into this world. Two verses are especially dear to me in this regard:

1. Galatians 6:7 Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows. (NIV)

2. Romans 12:17 Do not take revenge, my friends, but leave room for God's wrath, for it is written: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay." (NIV)

I depend on the truth of these two passages as support for an inner commitment to letting people "get away with murder." That commitment doesn't always (or even often) manage to overrule the emotional response to being wronged, but I fall back on those passages as the basis for letting go of the wrong as quickly as possible without demanding justice. Even if I do nothing, demand no apology, hold no grudge, plot no punishment, strike no blow in return, justice is built into this world. Nobody ever gets off scott-free. Sin has consequences. I depend on that. It helps me avoid a little more effectively the idea of taking justice into my own hands for fear God will overlook the wrong.

I don't need the bowls of wrath and the plagues of Revelation 16 for evidence to support my conviction that justice is always served in the end. I can observe the negative impact of sin all around me in this life. For example, the person who speaks to me in unloving tones, probably does not reserve those tones for me alone. I am likely far from the only person with whom he or she has conflict. I suspect the person who treats me like I'm an idiot lives in a world full of idiots and suffers no small amount of frustration. The person who makes strong demands of me likely lives in a world where the only way to get what he or she wants is to demand it. Nothing ever comes easily to them. Rather, they must scrabble for every foothold.

The natural tendency is for people to treat others as they are treated. Thus, the person who doesn't treat others well is unlikely to be treated well.

Is this the wrath of God? Does God rain lightning bolts, frogs, and hailstones down on those who fail to obey His law? Or is the wrath of God embodied in the consequences of sin built into the fabric of the universe and evident all around us? In Revelation 16, it is the former. Maybe that scene reflects some sort of reality. Or maybe it is highly symbolic and the wrath of God is more of a passive, "built-in," negative consequence of serving self.

I don't know what the reality of God's wrath is. I do know, however, that I live better when I cultivate my faith that justice is always served in some way, that, at some level, there are always negative consequences for negative actions. It's the key to peace, kindness, and forgiveness. I don't need to "get even" as long as I remain confident that God sees the wrong done and takes full responsibility for disciplining the wrongdoer.

God is love. And God is just. Righteousness brings heavenly bliss, sometimes surprisingly soon; unrighteousness brings terrible consequences, sometimes surprisingly soon. I'm counting on that.

"Without the shedding of blood ..."

A quote from this week's lesson exposition:

Though many have called the blood sacrifice of Jesus gory and unnecessary, the Scriptures teach just the opposite. “Without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness” (Hebrews 9:22) is stated without equivocation.

I am finding more and more that there is sense behind the laws given us in the Bible. As I read this statement, I wonder: Why? Why would forgiveness require the shedding of blood? And does it truly depend on "the blood sacrifice of Jesus"? Isn't a compassionate God free to have mercy on whom He will have mercy? Is He bound by some incomprehensible cosmic rule that blood must be shed before He can forgive?

A couple of thoughts along this line:

1) More intuitively obvious than bloodshed seems to be the requirement for recognition of the need for forgiveness before forgiveness can be received -- not because God isn't willing or able to give it but because the offender doesn't notice it being offered. If I don't realize that I need to be forgiven, God's offer of forgiveness is simply puzzling to me. Perhaps it takes a wound (to someone or something) deep enough to draw blood to reveal to me how desperately I need forgiveness and prompt me to receive it into my life.

2) Jesus' death brought forgiveness for others. Perhaps the full impact of sin isn't clear to us without seeing the ultimate effects of that sin in putting God Incarnate to a bloody, tortuous death. We weren't in Jerusalem that day, but we have all stood in the place of those who rejected Jesus and called for his death in order to get rid of him.

3) Is there figurative bleeding involved every time we extend forgiveness to others? Do we have to die just a little in order to let go of the wrongs done to us? Does that inner death give us a glimpse of what God sacrifices when He forgives?

I'm not sure there are any firm conclusions here, just some thoughts about the how and why behind this call for "the shedding of blood" in connection with forgiveness.

The "flesh" or the "sinful nature"?

I print out the scripture for every week's lesson. The lesson exposition uses the New International Version (NIV) of the Bible. Our church has NIV pew Bibles. I don't have a problem using NIV. Usually. This week's lesson is from Romans 8 and Galatians 5. I'm printing it out from the New Revised Standard Version (NRSV) for one reason - the Greek word sarx. The NIV translates it as "sinful nature" in these passages with "flesh" in the footnotes. The NRSV uses "flesh" in the text. I think the difference is important enough to switch translations.

I'm not sure why the NIV uses "sinful nature," but it opens the door to the idea that we can get rid of that nature. After all, who needs a sinful nature? Cry to God and He will cleanse you of that nature so that you are no longer bothered by it.

It's a little more difficult to put forth the idea of ridding ourselves of "flesh." We live in flesh. We can deny the appetites of our fleshly selves, but if we get rid of our flesh, our life on this earth will be over.

In both these passages, Paul contrasts life according to the flesh/sinful nature with life according to the Spirit. If we talk about the "sinful nature," we are choosing between right and wrong. In theory, we can totally eliminate wrong from our lives, get rid of the sinful nature completely. However, if we stick to the word "flesh," it's easy to see that the pull of the flesh includes legitimate appetites and desires. When my flesh is hungry, I need to eat in order to maintain my health. However, if I am walking in the Spirit, I won't let food become the focus of my life. It's not that I quit eating but that I make a conscious decision when and how much I will eat. The "flesh" doesn't dictate my actions and choices.

Freedom from the "flesh" doesn't mean I no longer have desires and appetites that trace back to my physical body and my human nature. Not only do I need to eat and sleep and maintain body warmth but I also need a sense of significance and value and purpose in life. If I follow the dictates of the "flesh," I will elevate those natural needs and desires to the place where they dictate all my actions. Everything will be about me and my needs. Walking in the Spirit doesn't mean no longer having those needs and desires. It means recognizing them for what they are and looking for legitimate ways to "keep soul and body together" while keeping in step with the Spirit. I am free from the "flesh" in that it no longer controls me.

By the grace of God -- when I am at my best -- I choose to deny the self-focus that tugs at me and make deliberate choices that glorify God and edify those around me. I feed my body what it needs without letting food become my focus in life. Similarly, I find personal value and significance in being loved by God and then focus on those around me without further concern for myself.

This is good stuff we're studying here. I think the "flesh" part of it is important.

Be holy as I am holy.

A speaker I heard recently said, "I fear in the postmodern world that we will have relevance without reverence, application without awe." Connecting such a fear to postmodernity puzzled me. Hasn't relevance been the goal of those doing ministry to baby boomers? Wasn't application a specialty of the holiness movement a century ago? Look at the music to see the emphasis. The gospel songs from 100 years ago are testimonies to what is happening in 'my' life.

"I've found a friend in Jesus. He's everything to me. He's the lily of the valley to my soul."

"He brought me out of the miry clay."

"Once I was bound by sin's galling fetters, chained like a slave I struggled in vain... Glorious freedom, wonderful freedom, no more in chains of sin I repine."

"Living by faith, in Jesus alone."

God was the means by which sunshine arrived in my soul. The songs revolved around what salvation/sanctification did for me.

Moving up to the 1970s, we have big spiral-bound books of music dealing with the second coming of Christ, the little flowers who never worry, admonitions to "consider the lily," celebrations of feeling at home in the presence of Jesus, being part of the family of God. Where is the awe? Where the reverence?

It seems to me that the top 25 worship songs today stand in stark contrast in their focus on God Almighty -- "How Great Is Our God," "Holy Is the Lord," "Lord, I Lift Your Name on High," "You Are My King," "God of Wonders," "How Great Thou Art."

Oops. That last one, although it is on the current top 25 list at CCLI, was actually written in 1953. How fitting that the two songs on the list coming to us from previous generations -- "How Great Thou Art" and "Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)" -- are songs that glorify the greatness of God and His grace.

I'm puzzled as to why the eminent speaker I heard linked a lack of awe and reverence with postmodernity. It disturbs me in that there are plenty of legitimate concerns connected with postmodernity without voicing fear in this area. I think losing sight of the transcendence and majesty of God is a danger in every generation. That danger is always worth keeping in mind. Still, it seems that for now the pendulum has swung more toward the opposite danger of viewing God Almighty as watching us from on high, "from a distance," and not necessarily involved in our daily lives at an intimate level.

This week's WordAction lesson calls us to "Be holy as [God] is holy." Part of the challenge of that statement is to recognize that the holiness of God is part of His transcendence, putting Him far beyond us, and yet to accept the commandment to be holy as humans in a way that reflects the unreachable holiness of God. It's an interesting challenge.

Sin -- strictly speaking

Sin popped up in last week's discussion and threatened to take over. Are we sinners or not? Can we live without sin? Can we claim to be sinless?

I wasn't ready to discuss it last week. This week it is part of the lesson exposition from 1 John 3. It's a delicate topic. There are landmines here.

The first challenge is to define sin. Some define it as any thought or deed that falls short of the best practices we know. By that definition, we are all guilty and can approach God only by way of grace. It's not a terrible viewpoint, but it leaves sin as inescapable. Acts of sin, followed by confession, repentance, and forgiveness become a never-ending exercise for Christians in this view.

In contrast, the Wesleyan definition of sin brings in an element of purposeful rebellion. In the oft-quoted words of John Wesley, sin is a "voluntary transgression of a known law of God." In this view, I know it's wrong and I choose to do it anyway. I see the line in the sand and deliberately stick my big toe over it. Wesleyans promote the belief that there is a place of freedom where we no longer have rebellion stirring in our hearts, where we are content to accept God's boundaries and no longer struggle against them. There is value in this view of sin. It tells us about freedom and the possibility of walking in daily unbroken communion with God.

The difficulties come when Wesleyans start to flesh out the face of sin. Is it a sin to dance? to watch certain movies or television shows? to smoke? to drink alcoholic beverages? to lie? to shop on Sunday? to eat enough to become and remain obese in a world where others starve? to gamble? to dress immodestly? to break the speed limit? What is the "known law of God" in these areas? Can we truly get it all right and avoid all the things on the list that we decide are sins? If we avoid all those things will we be sinless?

Part of what we're missing is the rest of the Wesley quotation:

Nothing is sin, strictly speaking, but a voluntary transgression of a known law of God. Therefore every voluntary breach of the law of love is sin; and nothing else, if we speak properly... Let love fill your heart, and it is enough.

If we take this fuller definition back to our list of possible sins, it makes the answers both easier and more difficult. To take one example, is gambling a voluntary breach of the law of love? It takes some serious scrutiny to answer that question as we contemplate all of the possible ways in which gambling could hurt those around us. Are we voluntarily breaching the law of love toward God and/or others when we walk into a casino with a roll of quarters? There's definite room for discussion here.

But why are we discussing gambling when we made a cutting remark to a family member before we left the house this morning? when we took steps to protect our own interests at the expense of our coworkers' interests? when we ignore the hurting people around us? when we build social groups that shut people out instead of inviting them in? If all it takes to sin is being rude when we have the capacity to be kind, we have a lot bigger problem to deal with than the gambling industry. Even believing that God can enable me to be kind when I have the capacity to make that choice isn't helpful. How much of my impatience with people is a voluntary decision to rebel against the law of love as opposed to being a sign that my resources are exhausted and I am unable to choose patience? If my irritation isn't a voluntary act of rebellion against the law of love, where does all this leave me?

That is the real question. Can the work of God in our lives enable us to escape our self-concern and live within the law of love? Can God give us the resources to be consistently kind in situations that have always exhausted our patience?

To me, the Wesleyan answer is that we will never exhaust the possibilities for what God can do in our lives. There will always be one more step to take to become more loving. And it is always possible to take that step in the grace and power of God. The possibilities are beyond imagination. I can look back and marvel at the progress I have made by the grace of God and then look ahead in anticipation for where tomorrow will take me.

Can we live without rebelling against God? Yes! When we place ourselves totally in His hands, we can lie still and let Him shape us as He will. And even though there's always more molding to do and we are never finished in this life, our submission to the process will delight Him. We can rest in His goodness and allow Him to teach us how to live in loving ways. Where we are is good; His grace covers our imperfections. And yet, we continually strive to go further in and up. There is more than we have yet discovered!

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. - 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 (NIV)