Alan's Corner

A Letter to My Son on His Sixth Birthday

2012-01-19T12:48:00.005-05:00

January 19, 2012

Brady’s 6^th Birthday

Dear Brady:

I can’t believe you are six years old today!

I heard a song this morning that reminded me of how I felt when I found out I was going to have a son back in 2005:

I remember sayin' I don't care either way

Just as long as he or she is healthy, I'm okay

And then the doctor pointed to the corner of the screen

And said, "You see that thing right there? Well, you know what that means"…

I remember, on the day we went in for the ultrasound to find out if you were a boy or a girl, I told your mom pretty much the same thing that Brad Paisley sings about. “I don’t care about the sex as long as the child is healthy.” I’m sure I meant it on some level. As things worked out, I now have a son and daughter and I love you both deeply; my relationship with each of you is unique.

But I also remember feeling something special when I realized you were going to be a little boy. (I also remember how happy your Pop was too, when we told him.)

You’ve already grown up so much! Sometimes I think you literally grow before our eyes. Your mom and I are so proud of all you’re doing. You’re a bright boy with so much potential in you, and we want to help you realize all God has for you.

I started wondering who he was going to be

And I thought heaven help us if he's anything like me

Quite often your mom and I see you do something and we say, “Oh gosh, he’s just like his dad.” Well, I hope that’s a good thing. Like the song says: Heaven help you… J

I hope you display my best qualities and leave behind the less desirable ones. Most of all, I pray that what I show you reflects God and leads you to seek after God the rest of your life. I have sung this to you since you were a baby and I truly mean it from the bottom of my heart: Let my love give you roots to help you find your wings.

Your mom and I thank God this day for the privilege and responsibility of being your parents. We pray that God would continue to help us live up to that most worthy calling for you and your sister.

Happy Birthday Son. I love you! I look forward to sharing the joy of this day with you and our friends and family.

Sincerely,

DAD

A Crisis Reveals a Captain's Character

2012-01-19T10:00:00.013-05:00

The media is abuzz right now in the aftermath of the Costa Concordia cruise ship disaster. The investigation is now focusing on the cruise ship captain, Francesco Schettino. And the picture emerging is not pretty. While the details are still fluid, evidence suggests that this captain placed the ship at significant risk by trying to navigate shallow waters near the coast of Italy and then added insult to injury by abandoning the sinking ship before all the passengers reached safety.

I was thinking today of another captain. In January 2009, after a flock of birds seriously damaged the aircraft and caused the engines to fail, Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger guided Delta airlines Flight 1549 to a safe landing on the Hudson River. Then, with the help of his co-pilot, he walked the length of the partially submerged aircraft to make sure that every single passenger was safely off the stricken airliner before he himself exited. Here was a captain who seemed willing to “go down with the ship” if that’s what it took to assure the safety of his passengers. He performed with extraordinary grace under unimaginable pressure and became something of a national hero. It was one of those truly good stories that stand out from the ones we typically here about on the nightly news.

When Sullenberg was interviewed about his heroism on the Hudson, he said: “It was obvious to me that this was a critical situation.” Yes, I’d say that was an understatement. There wasn’t much time to think in that fateful moment; there wasn’t time to study and carefully consider his response in this situation.

In a moment of crisis such as this—when snap decisions were needed that would impact hundreds of lives—he had to rely on that which was already “in him” to come out of him. And so, when Flight 1549 became stricken over the Hudson, “Sully” called upon his character—and let it shine for all the world to see.

Almost without thinking, all of Sullenberg’s years of training suddenly snapped into action. He seemed to instinctively know what he needed to do. All the experience gained in those “routine flights” helped him remain calm during this most extraordinary flight—one that clearly was not going to end the way all the other flights he had been on previously had ended. However, he reflected during the interview that: He felt his whole life to date had been preparing him for this moment.

As was the case on the Hudson that fateful day for Captain Sullenberg, when the Costa Concordia ran aground and began sinking, Captain Schettino faced a moment of crisis. It was another fateful moment where the decisions made would impact many lives. (In fact, these decisions literally cost some people their lives.) Again, there wasn’t time for the captain to think it through and make rational arguments; snap decisions had to be made—what was “in him” had to come out. The difference is that, sadly, what came out in this instance was not pretty. This captain chose to flee the sinking ship, leaving some of the passengers to fend for themselves.

Whereas Captain Sullenberg displayed the best of human character, risking his own life to guarantee the safety of those entrusted to his care, it appears Captain Schettino displayed the worst, first by placing those entrusted to him in danger and then by choosing to abandon them in their moment of need.

Now, it’s easy to heap criticism on Captain Schettino for his poor decisions. We’d all like to think that, faced with a similar moment of crisis, we would respond like Sully did and stay calm under pressure. We’d all like to think we’d be the hero in that moment, that we’d be so dedicated to the people entrusted to us (whether it’s family, friends, coworkers, passengers, etc.) that we would be willing to “go down with the ship” if that’s what it took.

But I honestly am not sure how I would respond. There’s probably more Captain Schettino in me then I would like to admit. I do have a tendency to want to escape “messy” situations rather than engage them. I don’t like putting myself out to serve others, especially when it costs me my comfort and security—as it surely would in these kinds of moments.

As much as I know what I “ought” to do in theory, or “what Jesus would do” faced with these situations, I confess that I don’t know how I would actually respond when faced with a similar moment of crisis.

So how would I respond to a hypothetical crisis? I’m not sure. I suppose, like any of us, I’ll only know for sure in that moment. But what I do know is that I will continue to use the “routine moments” of life to prepare me and train me to respond those “extraordinary moments” that life will inevitably throw my way.

And I hope and pray that when those critical moments do come, and there is no time to think about how I will respond before I act, that what is “in me” will come out of me, and that I will respond in a way consistent with the person I want to be and the God I claim to serve.

I heard a song recently whose haunting chorus encapsulates how I hope that I—and all of us—would respond to moments of crisis that we each will inevitably face in this life. When we face those fateful and difficult choices, I pray that we would be so dedicated to the “others” God has entrusted to our love and care that we would be willing to say:

I will go down with this ship

And I won't put my hands up and surrender

There will be no white flag above my door

I'm in love and always will be[1]

[1] Chorus from “White Flag” by Dido. See e.g., www.youtube.com/watch?v=2pwT2wiZsg0 for full lyrics and to hear the song.

Light Up the Patches of Darkness

2011-12-22T18:14:00.003-05:00

A beautiful live Christmas tree adorns our home. It is work to get it in place and decorated every year but now I can enjoy it. After the initial work of trimming the tree is done I sit back and look at how it turned out and inevitably I will see “patches of darkness”. There are too many lights in one place and not enough in other places. We shift the strands of lights around until the distribution of light is more uniform.

According to the Gospel of John, when Jesus was born, light rushed into the world; that light was the light of all people and darkness couldn't overcome it—John 1:4-5. (Later in John’s Gospel, Jesus twice refers to himself as light of the world—John 8:12; John 9:5.)

The Gospel writer goes on to explain that a man named John “the Baptist” (a cousin of Jesus?) was a witness to the light and went forth to testify about the light so that all might believe through him—John 1:8-9. There was this wonderful new kind of light in the world but it’s the kind of light that’s not obvious to the untrained eye. You have to “learn how to see it,” and you have to “see” to believe.

John the Baptist saw the “God light” himself and then went forth to help others “see”. Followers of Christ are likewise called to see the light of Jesus in our world and be the light of Jesus for our world.

Our Christmas trees have “patches of darkness” and we arrange the strands of lights so that the darkness is overcome. I think that gives us a great image of how the Church ought to function.

Christ’s Body should be strands of “God-light” in our world. The Church ought to spread out across the world so that “patches of darkness” are minimized to the extent possible. Our “God-light” should make this world a brighter place…

Christ told his followers that they were light of the world and urged them to let their light shine among men to the glory of God—Matthew 5:14-16. Jesus made his life a living example for us of how we might do that. Paul called the Christians in Philippi to follow Christ’s example, challenging them to shine like stars in a “dark” place—Philippians 2:5-11; 15. We, the followers of Jesus, need to hear this same call today. The “God-light” is in each one of us but too often it remains “hidden”. We need to let our light shine in a world that desperately needs to “see” the light that only Christ can bring.

Over the mountains

Into the valleys

Crossing the ocean

And through the darkness

To all the hopeless

For all the broken

I'll carry the light

—From Carry the Light, by Mark Harris

1. Have you experienced “God-light” in your life? Do you share it or hide it?

2. What holds you back from letting your light shine?

3. What/who can help encourage you to let your light shine more?

4. What is one way you could illuminate a “patch of darkness” this Christmas?

The Edge of Glory

2011-12-17T15:18:00.010-05:00

The gym where I work out plays music videos.The other day they showed Lady GaGa’sEdge of Glory[1]. As with most videos today the scenes are choreographed to be provocative as the singer ungulates about in a skimpy outfit belting out the lyrics.

At first glance the meaning of the song seems quite obvious and quite “basic”. A woman wants to be with a man tonight and will stop at nothing to see it happen. It’s time to cut through all the excuses once and for all and follow her heart’s desire—“there aint no reason you and me should be alone tonight.” These lyrics speak to our hearts because they evoke risk, danger, maybe even scandal. We all want to be swept up in a story like this with romance, suspense, and intrigue. As the singer steps out on “the edge of glory,” she hopes to finally experience the deep and abiding love she has been searching for, to finally find that relationship with another person that makes things “right” in a world where so much seems wrong. As the song goes on, one gains the impression that, for whatever reason, this is her last chance and she doesn’t want to miss this opportunity.

But why such urgency and boldness all of a sudden? Why is this woman willing to take this risk now as opposed to before?

In a recent interview, Lady GaGa revealed that the inspiration for this song came to her as her grandfather was dying. So there may indeed be another layer of meaning to this song. Someone she loved dearly was about to leave this life—“kiss the other side”. So when GaGa sings about being on the “edge of glory” it might actually symbolize that moment of crossing over from life to death. Perhaps the loss of someone close to her helps her prioritize what really matters. Given this background, these lyrics might be about more than raging hormones and animal procreative instincts after all. Maybe the singer in GaGa’s ballad is willing to hang on “a moment of truth” today, because she now has a sobering reminder in her own life that tomorrow might be too late.

The words of this song seek to remind us that life is short and we sometimes have be willing to take risky steps out on the “edge of glory” in pursuit of our dreams.

These words, especially the chorus, have been rattling around in my brain during the Christmas season.

I'm on the edge of glory

And I'm hanging on a moment of truth

I'm on the edge of glory

And I'm hanging on a moment with you

I'm on the edge

The edge… The edge… The edge…

The edge… The edge… The edge

I'm on the edge of glory

And I'm hanging on a moment with you

I'm on the edge with you

Lady GaGa’s lyrics evoke thoughts of another song, written centuries ago. The two singers couldn’t be more different—one a pop superstar, the other virtually unknown to the world of her day—but both messages, at least at their core, seem strikingly similar.

Mary is Jewish, a teenager, unmarried, a virgin! An angel visited her and told her that God had chosen her for an incredible task. She will become Mother of God. Mary struggles to comprehend this news, as any of us would in her sandals. She wrestles with the implications for her life—her plans for marriage, her dreams. She seeks out her “mentor” Elizabeth, whom she learns is herself pregnant against seemingly impossible odds. From the moment she arrives, Elizabeth is filled with joy—even the unborn child within Elizabeth seems to be rejoicing in the presence of Mary. “What an honor to be in the presence of the Lord, and of you, Mary, the woman God has chosen to bear his Son Jesus. Blessed are you and your son!”

Just like Lady GaGa, Mary seems to realize that this is “a moment of truth” for her. Until now, she’s been able to keep this pregnancy under wraps. But soon she’ll have to “go public”. If she’s going to carry out God’s plan, she’ll soon have to tell the rest of the world—not to mention her family and fiancé!—that she’s expecting Mary has to decide what she will do. Elizabeth seems pretty excited; in fact, her attitude is downright contagious. Mary has had many concerns; but here, in this place with Elizabeth being so supportive, for the first time she dares to believe that things might just work out okay. Mary finally lets her heart burst forth in praise to God.

Mary essentially says, “God, I confess that I’m afraid and uncertain about my future right now. From my perspective, it doesn’t seem that hopeful right now. But because I’m with You, I will trust that things are going to turn out okay for me—perhaps even more than okay. Even though so much seems wrong about this situation, I’m committed to seeing it through and going where you lead. Even though I don’t understand, I choose to cling to the promise the angel gave me. I said I was your servant then and I reaffirm that choice now. Let it be as you say…” Then she begins to sing her beautiful song. I imagine it starting a bit timid at first, and growing in strength as Mary gains confidence:

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord

And my spirit exalts in God my Savior

For He has looked with mercy on my lowliness

And my name will be forever exalted

For the mighty God has done great things for me

An His mercy will reach from age to age

And holy, holy, holy is His name

He has mercy in every generation

He has revealed His power and His glory

He has cast down the mighty in their arrogance

And has lifted up the meek and the lowly

He has come to help His servant Israel

He remembered His promise to our fathers

And holy, holy, holy is His name[2]

I think a modern summary of Mary’s Magnificat could be: “I’m on the edge of glory, and I’m hanging on this moment with You. I am on the edge with You!"

Theologian N.T. Wright says that glory is what happens when a creature does what it was created to do. (The Eastern Orthodox speak of “living up to our logos.”) For Mary, her calling was to be theotokos—the God-bearer, the literal Mother of God. Likewise, for each of us, our calling is to “birth” the God-given potential (or if you will, the miracle) within us. We are each unique creations of our Creator; both our gifts and our limitations are custom-designed for us.

We are called to step out on the “edge of glory,” to embark on our own quest to discover and become that which God created us to be. When we finally rub up against, “the edge of glory,” in our lives, when we find that place where, “our great joy and the world’s deep needs intersect,” then we will live like we’ve never lived before. We will understand why St. Iranaeus said: “The glory of God is [human beings] fully alive.” Lady GaGa expressed it this way: “I’m standing on the edge of something final we call life tonight.” Jesus talked about that kind of final life too; he called it the life of the ages—or eternal life.

Friends, today just might be your “moment of truth”. Are you ready to take a chance and step out on the “edge of glory” with God?

One thing is certain; today is the only chance we have to make an impact. We can’t go back to change the past… we can’t control the future… However, our actions can help to shape the present, and thus we can help God create a future with hope [Jeremiah 29:11] for us and for the whole world.

Hope I'll see you out on the edge...

[1] Full lyrics easily obtained via Google search on “Edge of Glory lyrics”. Interpretations shared herein are solely mine and might or might not have been the author’s intent.

[2] The song is called Holy is the Lord, written by John Michael Talbot, and is based upon the words of Mary’s Magnificat found in Luke 1:46-54. For a beautiful interpretation of the song (verse 1 only) with accompanying liturgical dance please visit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vkOoeyzLlac. The song starts around minute 3:25; however, the earlier portion is worth listening to as it sets the context.

Embracing Our Christmas Stains

2011-11-30T17:18:00.003-05:00

I have been reading a book called Christmas is Not Your Birthday recently. One of the points that author Mike Slaughter makes is that we try so hard to sanitize Christmas. Every year, we engage in a futile quest to clean up and create the perfect Christmas.

As I was reflecting on this idea recently, I thought of the line below from a 1973 episode of Sanford and Son. It’s an exchange between “entrepreneur” (a.k.a., junk dealer) Fred Sanford (played by Redd Foxx), and his bible-thumping, purse-slinging sister-in-law, Esther Anderson (played by Lawanda Page) that takes place when she comes to bail Fred out of jail.[1]

Esther: Fred Sanford, I’m glad my sister didn’t live to see the stain you’ve bought on this family.

Fred: Esther, I didn’t put no stain on your family. Your family was stained when I met y’all... Every time a baby was born, they had that ugly stain on them. That’s right! That ugly stain! Even AJAX couldn’t do nothing for it.

It struck me that Fred’s sentiment, while somewhat irreverent, could be describing our annual preparations for Christmas. This time of year we get out our “AJAX” (whether literal or figurative) and “scrub and scrub” and try to get everything looking pristine and perfect for Christmas. But no matter how hard we try, we can’t attain the perfection we seek. By the end of the season we are exhausted in every way.

We even do this in our churches. Nativity scenes are ubiquitous this time of year. They seek to create the perfect Kodak moment at the end of the Christmas pageant. We “clean up” the Christmas story and present a perfect image of Christmas. All of the characters are neatly arranged around the manger. Everyone is well-groomed and smiling. But the fact is, if you study the details of the actual stories (contained in the first two chapters of Matthew’s and Luke’s Gospels) you realize the Christmas story is a whole lot more grittier, messier and complex than what we present on stage on Christmas Eve—it sounds much more like real life.

The fact is, we can “scrub and scrub”, but we can never get all the stains out of the real Christmas story—nor, I would argue, should we.

It’s been said: The perfect is the enemy of the good; I think it’s true. If we get caught up in trying to make something perfect we might very well miss out on something that has the potential to be good. For example, we can become consumed with trying to have a perfect Christmas and fail to appreciate what is so good about the Christmas story. If we try too hard to scrub Christmas clean, we might end up scrubbing Christ out of the holiday that bears his name.

What if the whole point God is trying to make in having the Christmas Story unfold precisely the way it did is that things don’t have to be perfect for them to turn out very good? What if the presence of a few stains in our lives or our dwelling places doesn’t bother God nearly as much as they bother us?

There is an old hymn called There is a Fountain Filled With Blood whose chorus says: “sinners plunged beneath that flood lose all their guilty stains”. This line of theological thinking maintains Jesus’ blood does what no amount of our own scrubbing can do. Because of what Jesus did on the cross—and only because of that—we are now cleansed of our stains and made perfect before God.

But I’m not sure I believe that exactly. I’ve been a follower of Christ my whole life (41 years) and there are some stains that are just as stubborn as ever! I think perhaps reality is actually closer to Fred Sanford’s “theology”: “You can scrub and scrub but even AJAX won’t get rid of those stains.” That is to say, I think maybe we’re meant to keep some of our stains for eternity. (If that sounds strange, consider that Jesus, after the resurrection, still bore the marks of the nails that held him to the cross. Why weren’t those wounds healed?)

What if the blood of Jesus doesn’t remove our guilty stains altogether, but rather redeems them? What if the real Christmas story—not the sanitized nativity scene version—is meant to remind us that stains are an inescapable part of life on Earth—and that’s actually a good thing. What if stains are actually the flipside of giftedness[2]? What if the only way we can become all that God created us to be is to fully accept and embrace our stains?

No, you and I aren’t perfect people, and we never will be; but the good news we celebrate at Christmas is that by God’s grace, we are good people! We are fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of our Creator and there is much good God can accomplish through us if we will simply follow Mary’s example and say, “Yes,” to God’s initiative in our lives. If we open ourselves, God can use us—stains and all—to “birth” our own unique Christmas miracle just like he did with Mary.

[1] For those unfamiliar, this YouTube video gives some context .

[2] Thanks to Parker Palmer for this idea—see Let Your Life Speak, Josey–Bass (2000).

Remembering Hope: Three-and-a-half Years Later

2011-11-04T11:42:00.002-04:00

Today is exactly 3.5 years since we lost our daughter Hope Marie. Sometimes "anniversaries" make you stop and think about things.

Hope is certainly still—and always will be—part of us. We never want to forget her precious life that was so short this side of eternity. We want the children to know they had a sibling. But, although I suppose it can sound cliché, it does seem true that time really does have the capacity to heal wounds. Memories still surface and when they come, they sting... but life and living goes on... and I think I can say it has for the Wards.

There is a kind of "separation" as Becca grows into a very vibrant and spirited little girl and we remember Hope as a two-day old infant slipping away into God's arms. You can almost forget for a while that she was "supposed" to be here. (I'm sure most outside our family have mostly forgotten about her accept when someone or something reminds them; it's only natural to focus most on those actually physically present with us.) We have our two children and we love them dearly. We live our life together and the family seems "complete". But then we'll be doing something together, maybe I am struggling to handle the two children, and it will hit me -- "There were supposed to be three...", or I will see Becca doing something and think that Hope isn't here to experience it.

To this day, when I see a set of twins, I confess it's difficult—and sometimes it seems like those darn double strollers are everywhere! I want to ask parents of twins: "So what's it like to raise them?" (Once in a play area at the mall I am pretty sure that there were two sets of identical twins present at the same time. I'm like, "Okay God, enough already! Oy veh?!")

The grief I feel the most is the sense of our family being "robbed" of experience—and there's nothing I as dad could do about it. Laurie and I missed out on in knowing Hope in this life, raising our first-born daughter (Hope was born first), and getting to be parents of twins. Likewise, Brady and Becca also suffered loss, even if they didn't know it -- they may feel it more as time goes on. They both lost the opportunity to have another sibling in this earthly life, and Becca lost the unique experience not just of having a sister, but an identical twin sister. I'll always wonder how the two girls personalities would have been similar or different? (I suspect they would have looked the same but had different personalities, but I will never know...) What kind of special bond would the two of them would have had? What kind of bond would I as father have had with Hope? (I know I have a special one with Becca.) What does Becca sense she is "missing"?

The kids know about their sister, "Baby Hope." From time-to-time they ask questions and we pull out a memory box with what few things we have left from her brief life. We visit the cemetery at my parent’s church in Calvert County where she is buried occasionally but we certainly don't go often. (I suppose it helps that she is buried over an hour away.) We know Hope is not there... but it is a place where we can pause to intentionally remember that she was real, mattered very much to us, and we miss her presence with us.

Keep us in prayer on this day. This Sunday they have a memorial service at Franklin Square Hospital (where the girls were born) for those who have lost a child. We go to this every year and it is a good thing. Laurie is actually giving the short “meditation” this year—she felt ready to do it this year. The kids always enjoy going outside and releasing a " balloon to Jesus” for Hope at the end of the service.

New Post at Jesus Boat: Portraits of Perseverance

2011-10-26T14:38:00.003-04:00

I've got a new post over on the Jesus Boat blog.

It's actually the second of two; the first post is here.

Check it out!

Back at the Hospital: The Best Laid Plans...

2011-10-17T17:17:00.002-04:00

We plan, we schedule; we want to know what will come next. We experience anxiety when it all doesn’t go as we planned. Human beings want to be in control of their world—or at least we want to think we are. I suppose the past few weeks remind the Ward family of the fallacy of that belief. Simply put: it’s an illusion!!

On Labor Day Laurie had an episode of sharp pain. The diagnosis was that her gall bladder was “full of stones” and needed to be removed. So we planned accordingly.

We scheduled the surgery; from all reports it was a fairly routine outpatient procedure. Nowadays they use a laparoscope to do the surgery, which makes recovery even quicker. Others who have had their gall bladder out reported that they recovered quickly. Based on all this, we assumed she would be out of action for a little while but nothing too significant. She planned to take one Sunday out of the pulpit in church and be back working the next week, and preaching the following Sunday.

But, true to life, things didn’t exactly go as we planned it. The first fly in the proverbial ointment was that the surgery had to be postponed a week because Laurie had a cold. The surgeon and chief anesthesiologist decided not to risk “added respiratory complications” with what was, at the end of the day, an “elective” procedure for Laurie. Ten minutes from the operating room, the procedure was cancelled and rescheduled for the following week. It was a nuisance—okay, it was more than a nuisance; we were not happy. We had to rearrange our lives again. Laurie’s mom had come up and would have to go home and then come back again the following week. Laurie had to arrange her pastoral schedule—which had already been rearranged in anticipation of surgery.

So we came back to the hospital a week later and did it all over again. This time the surgery went forward and seemed to go well. She went home the same day but she just didn’t recover as had been expected. At first we thought maybe it was “just bad gas” after being under anesthesia, but it didn’t get better; if anything it got worse. When she was still unable to eat anything without pain after several days we knew things weren’t going “according to plan”. She continued having pain, and, finally, early the following Saturday morning she went to the Emergency Room, and was subsequently admitted.

That brings us to today. As I write this, we’re in the pre-op area at Franklin Square. The working assumption now is that Laurie has a gallstone blocking one of her bile ducts and causing pain. She’ll have an ERCP (you can look it up if you really want to know what it means) where they go in and explore around her digestive track to try and find the “rogue” stone and if they find one they can dislodge it. It should take care of the problem. The only concern is that about 6% of the people who have these procedures end up with inflammation of the pancreas.

It’s funny isn’t it, “normal life” is really composed of lots of circumstances that don’t go the way we planned them. We take the good, the bad, and the ugly and merge it all together into something we call life.

As a follower of Christ, I believe that these events are not all random and meaningless. Sometimes I don’t have a clue what’s going on in the heat of the moment, but I trust there is a “bigger picture”, a “larger story” that extends beyond my finite perceptions of reality. Sometimes my humanness clouds my ability to see beyond my own nose. Francesca Battistelli expresses it well in one of her songs: “In the middle of my little mess I forget how big I’m blessed...” I get self-absorbed in my own little world; I lose sight of the “big picture”; I experience doubt about whether there really is a “larger story”.

Batistelli’s song lyric continues, “…but this is the stuff you use,”. I like this sentiment. I don’t think God brings “bad” things into our lives; they come because we live here on Earth—a place where sin and death are realities. However, I think God uses all the stuff of life—good, bad, joy, tragedy, and all the everyday moments too—to form us into the people God desires us to be. Paul reminds us that this is a bedrock of our faith. Even when I don’t understand how, God really does work all things together for good for those who love God.

There have been moments, such as when my daughter Hope unexpectedly died two days after she was born, when life’s howling storms stripped away everything else, that bedrock was all I had left to cling to. But the good news is that foundation held; it proved a very present help in time of need.

UPDATE: Laurie has just gone back for surgery now… Please pray that all goes well.

Being Church in The Village

2011-08-19T12:17:00.009-04:00

UMODE: Context for A Creed

Five United Methodist congregations located within about 10 miles of each other in the Dundalk and Edgemere communities of Southeast Baltimore—calling ourselves "UMODE"—have been working together for the past couple years. We are each proud of our unique history; our individual efforts to date have accomplished good things. However, we believe we can do even greater things for God's kingdom as five churches working as one than we can as five individual congregations struggling to do effective ministry independently with increasingly limited material and human resources. The effort to work together has not been without complications—it's inevitable that any worthy effort like this would have its "growing pains" and "roadblocks"—but we have persevered together and are making good progress.

Together, UMODE has hired a youth and young adult pastor to work for our five churches . At least as important as what she has done in our churches is the work she has done OUTSIDE our church doors—reaching out to the community around us that, for many reasons, doesn't choose to "go to church" on Sunday. She has spent time building relationships with the people who frequent the "gathering places" of Dundalk and Edgemere. And her work is bearing fruit ...

Building on the efforts to date, and the "seeds" we've planted in the community, this weekend we hope to start "harvesting"—or at least seeing some "germination". Today and tomorrow (August 19-20), we plan two days of outreach to our community at Heritage Park in Dundalk with an informal time of worship concluding each evening.

Please pray for our outreach efforts to be a "success"... and for the PM thunderstorms to not be too intense... (Contrary to popular belief meteorologists like me really can't control the weather; we just report what's coming—and sometimes, as is well documented and criticized, we don't even do that very well!)

UMODE has also started a new "informal" worship gathering called The Village that meets in a local coffee shop—with substantial contributions from people in other churches in the area and folks with no formal church connection at present. We had our first gathering last week and it seemed to go well. We had ~72 people in and out during the evening—with a few more lurkers on the perimeter not sure if they belonged yet. We want to make it clear by what we do that ALL are welcome at The Village. We're seeking a form of expression that is "organic", adaptable, and most of all, flexible so we can effectively respond to the pressing physical needs and the spiritual hunger in our community. We would appreciate your prayers for this new worship gathering as well.

The outreach this weekend is taking place in the same vicinity as the coffee shop and the coffee shop owner is helping us, so the events are very much related.

This effort to "take church to the people" is well established in our Wesleyan DNA. When people no longer felt welcome in church anymore, the Wesley brothers decided to take church to the people of their day. We the churches of UMODE are merely trying to do what the Wesley brothers did in our own time and place.

Doing this sort of thing seems a little strange to people (myself included) who have gotten used to "going to church on Sunday" and not thinking as much about "what the church is supposed to be". This kind of outreach pushes us out of our comfort zone, but it is really a good thing in that it gets us back to the root of what it really means to be the church—the Body of Christ—in our world.

So I hope John and Charles would be proud of what we're trying to do, but more importantly, I hope this makes God smile... and I hope the Spirit moves in powerful ways.

"Greater things are still to come and greater things still to be done in this city..."

The Village Creed

I wrote the creed below to describe my aspirations for our new worship.

A creed is supposed to be a statement of what the worshipping community believes and this is really one man’s opinion. So while I hardly place this prose in the same league as the historic statements of our faith (e.g., Apostles Creed, Nicene Creed) that most Christians confess, I share what I have written in hopes that it might be useful to you in your setting. While I wrote it for use in a particular context I think it could be easily adapted for use in other settings. Most of what it is written here is theology on which I think most Christians agree. I just tried to say it in language that is accessible to those less familiar with the jargon of the church.

I set it up so that it might be read as a litany. The people read the statements in BOLD and the leader reads the rest. It could just as easily be read in unison however. The text goes as follows:

We are The Village!

We are a community committed to loving God and loving one another.

We are Trinity people.

We believe in Father, Son, and Spirit. We are caught in a downpour of God’s love that floods our souls and flows to a thirsty world.

We are Emmanuel people.

We believe God was, is, and forever will be with us. Nothing we do can ever earn or ever separate us from God’s love.

We are Incarnation people.

We believe that through Jesus, God got his hands dirty. He lived among us and showed us what we can become and still lives today in the hearts of all who believe.

We are Kingdom people.

We believe that Jesus calls us to live a different kind of life than what this world calls “normal”. Let your Kingdom come!

We are Resurrection people.

We believe Jesus suffered unjustly and died a tragic death… but on third day he rose again! Humanity’s worst couldn’t conquer Heaven’s best!

We are Spirit-led people.

We believe God’s Spirit is moving in our midst and we seek to respond.

We are L.U.P.E. people

We love one another because God first loved us.

We understand God better by getting to know one another.

We pray for God’s peace to reign in our lives and our world.

We encourage one another to be all God made us to be.

We are The Village!

Everyone is welcome here. So, grab a latte; share your story; share your gifts; or simply rest in God’s love.

Come Lord Jesus, come!

Where Are the Fish Biting Today?

2011-06-28T14:27:00.001-04:00

I am by no means an authority on fishing; it’s not really a hobby of mine. I do know, however, that many factors go into determining where the fish will be biting today. The temperature of the water, the winds, the supply of nutrients, and other factors can all impact the fish. Fish tend to follow their food sources, so if you find what the fish eat in the water, then the fish are likely to follow.

From my work at NASA, I know that today’s commercial fishing industry is becoming more and more rooted in science. It’s not uncommon for fishermen to consult weather maps, ocean topography charts, and other data from satellites and other sources to help them try to maximize their chances of bringing in a good catch. But at the end of the day there’s still an “art” to fishing. You can go where the data tells you to go and still find no fish…

The men that Jesus encountered along the shores of the Sea of Galilee did not have access to sophisticated technology to track schools of fish, but I am quite certain that fishing the same waters day after day, year after year, gave them an intuitive feel for when and where to cast their nets on a given day. When they put down their nets in a given place, it was because they thought they had a reasonable chance of catching something.

Imagine then how you might feel if a non-fisherman standing on the shore presumed to tell you where to drop your nets? Imagine further that it’s already been a long and unproductive night of fishing. You are tired and would just assume call it a day. Would you listen to the suggestion?

Well, in John 21:1-14 we’re told that these seasoned fishermen did listen to the advice of the “stranger”. They knew Jesus, but John tells us they didn’t recognize him at first—they couldn’t see him clearly from where they were. It’s only when they pull in the huge catch of fish it becomes clear to them who was standing there all along. Peter swims to shore (vintage Peter here!) leaving the others to haul the boat into shore. They all sit down to breakfast with Jesus and not one of them asks: “Who are you?” It’s as if what they witness that morning along the shores of Galilee removes any lingering doubts they may have had about whether Jesus is really alive. (These doubts are very apparent in the disciple’s previous encounters with Jesus in Jerusalem after the resurrection—e.g., Luke 24:36-43; John 20:24-29)

I find it interesting that the disciples obey Jesus’ commands to “cast your nets on the right side” before they actually recognize Jesus in the flesh. It says something about having faith in and placing our trust in what we cannot see. I often think it was easier for the first disciples to believe because Jesus was there with them in the flesh, and maybe it was, but this is a good reminder that faith is never simplistic.

Just as these men have an instinctive sense for where the fish are biting, they seem to instinctively recognize Jesus’ authority—he commands not only the fish but the fishermen as well. And after this encounter, these rugged fishermen from Galilee leave their boats on the shores of Galilee once and for all and follow the Risen Lord where he leads them. After Jesus ascends and the Holy Spirit descends these men are sent forth to drop their nets on other seas and their labors lead to a huge “catch” for the Kingdom of God—all because they were obedient to Jesus, and put down their nets on the right side of the boat.

Who Was In the Boat?

2011-06-15T11:32:00.002-04:00

The Sea of Galilee has been a source of life-giving water for the people of Israel for centuries. Over the years, many have also depended on its waters their personal economic wellbeing. Such was the case for a group of fishermen who lived along the shores of Galilee in about 30 AD. Fishing was not an occupation for the feint of heart; it was tough manual labor in that day; there were no automatic winches to help. The nets were hauled by hand; the boats required rowing.

Jesus meets these rugged men along the shores of the sea in their natural environment. They are doing the only work they have ever known—no doubt the work their fathers had taught them to do. As lifelong fishermen, their bodies were no doubt weathered and tanned from countless hours spent in the hot sun, their hands calloused from struggling with the nets, their aroma no doubt distinctive as perspiration mingled with the smells of the sea, their language brimming with local color. They were probably not unlike the workers that populate the neighborhoods where I live in Southeast Baltimore—down-to-earth, good-hearted, hard-working blue-collar workers who work hard… and play hard.

Luke tells a story of an encounter Jesus has with these fishermen—see Luke 5:1-11. He describes a series of events in these verses that culminate not just in a remarkable catch of fish but in life-changing experiences for these men. After this encounter, several of them will decide to leave the only career they have ever known to embark on a journey with Jesus that will take them to places they have never been, doing things these unschooled, ordinary fishermen never dreamed they would do.

How does Jesus connect with them? He categorically does not wait for them to come to the local synagogue—you’ll note he just left the synagogue. No, he goes out to them and enters their world. It’s clear from reading the text that Jesus already knows these men well before the events of Luke 5:1-11 unfold. He has observed them as they work; maybe he has even been out fishing with them. Perhaps it is in being willing to get his hands dirty with them that he gains their respect (notice Simon calls him “Master”) and has an opening for more...

From this group of men, Jesus handpicks several to embark on a new mission. They have spent their life catching fish, and now Jesus will train them to “fish” for men.

Where is Jesus calling you to “put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch”? Maybe it’s a place you’ve been “fishing all night” with nothing to show for it, or maybe it’s a place you never thought of fishing. The question is: Will you listen to the call and obey?

Called to Action—Responding to the Real Crisis

2011-05-26T16:55:00.003-04:00

This weekend, clergy and laity from all around the Baltimore–Washington Conference of the United Methodist Church are converging on the Marriott Waterfront in Baltimore for our Annual Conference meeting. I will be one of those delegates. We will gather to worship, fellowship, and discern God’s direction for our Conference for the coming year. We’ll also vote for the delegates that will represent us at next year’s General Conference in Tampa, FL. This year one of the big themes on the agenda will be the Call to Action, a new denomination-wide effort to help revitalize our denomination.

Most of us will surely agree with the findings of the study that led to this Call to Action. We know that our churches face “a creeping crisis”… It’s hard to argue with what we see lived out every day in our local churches. We can try and pretty up the statistics but the fact is that our denomination (like other mainline denominations in the West) is declining. Many—though certainly not all—of our local congregations are shrinking and greying. We aren’t attracting enough youth and young adults into our midst to sustain ourselves.

But we also acknowledge that as we get older and smaller we are sorely tempted to conserve what we have rather than follow Christ’s example and reach out to the community and world around us. (In some ways, that’s just human nature and it’s hard to fight against.) We lack energy and vitality and we don’t want to take as many risks as we did when we were younger or there were more of us. Thus, we don’t always readily embrace new initiatives—like the Call to Action.

We tend to be skeptical of programs we perceive as being imposed upon us from “above”. We don’t implicitly trust that “The Conference” has our best interests at heart. These programs have an impact on real people in our churches, but sometimes it seems like “The Conference” can remain at a comfortable distance from that reality. When it comes to implementing these kinds of programs what works well in one church may not work well in another. But it is easier for the Conference to track “success” or “failure” of the Program when everyone is “scored” the same way.

The problem with that approach is that Christian spiritual formation (a.k.a., discipleship) was never intended to be a one-size-fits-all-Program but rather an organic movement of the Holy Spirit unique to every time and place.

So given all that, the skeptical reaction that some may have to the Call to Action is understandable. This is certainly not the first effort we’ve seen toward the noble-sounding goal of “revitalizing” the denomination and making us more “relevant”. In fact, to seasoned veterans of Annual Conference, this may just seem like the latest, greatest plan to recreate Acts 2 in our modern context and see the Spirit move powerfully in our churches like it did back then. Those who have been around have seen these initiatives come and go. The fanfare, energy, and enthusiasm at the beginning are usually hard to sustain in the face of the realities of our local churches.

The inertia of how we’ve always done things is one of the most difficult forces in the universe to overcome, and at times, it makes implementing anything more than incremental change and “band aid fixes” in our churches a near impossibility.

Another reason that these initiatives have struggled is that we’ve been seeking the wrong objective. I don’t think our quest should be for “relevancy” so much as it should be “making disciples for the transformation of the world”. (And I hope and pray “making disciples” is what ultimately motivates the Call to Action.)

In my mind, the biggest crisis facing not only United Methodists, but the Church Universal is not relevancy but rather discipleship.

Consider the Gospel of Matthew’s take on Jesus’ final words to his disciples before his Ascension—known as the Great Commission.

All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always even to the end of the age. —Matthew 28:18-20

We are called to reach out to all nations[1], and once we invite them into our midst, we encourage them to be baptized. Here, they make public what has already happened to them on the inside, commit to following the radical and counter-cultural Jesus Way, and seek the support of a community of believers.

You’ll notice the Great Commission doesn’t end with baptism. Sadly, though, it seems that in many cases our churches have forgotten the rest of Jesus’ command with perilous consequences for both church and society. If we do manage to add a few new members, they aren’t provided with enough opportunities to grow spiritually. They either stagnate or leave our church looking for a place that better “meets their needs”. The result is that we don’t grow our numbers, but more importantly, we don’t produce enough mature believers who in turn can train others to take their place and carry on the work of the Church in future generations.

Dallas Willard calls this phenomenon the Great Omission from the Great Commission and argues that the crisis of relevancy is really just a symptom of the deeper crisis of discipleship[2].

Baptism is meant to be the beginning of our life following Jesus—or at least it is our “coming out” party when we go public with our intentions. From there we have be taught to obey, which implies that it doesn’t just “come naturally”. We have to learn to live the Jesus Way in a world that is decidedly not living that way, and that’s nearly impossible to do alone. Left to our own devices we will surely drift toward the ways of the world around us. We human beings have a remarkable capacity to rationalize our self-centered existence, especially when we isolate ourselves from contact with others. When we enter into a community, we’re challenged to live with more awareness of the “others” in our lives.

This is why, in my humble opinion, the being part of a local church is so vital to our lives. We need our faith community to help sustain us. We’re dead meat if we try and live the Jesus Way on our own! Our churches should serve as places where we gather together for mutual support and encouragement in living the Jesus Way, and where we can practice living this way together—we might think of them as spiritual training academies. As we progress, we reach a point where doing what Jesus did—e.g., loving our enemies, blessing those who persecute us—starts to come more naturally to us. With practice responding as Jesus did to circumstances in our lives becomes easier—the “impossible” starts to become possible.

I hope that The Call to Action will help to make this vision of discipleship and Church more tangible and real in our world. As we begin to fulfill Christ’s Great Commission and make disciples of all nations, baptize them, and teach them to obey, the relevancy we seek will surely come.

[1] To me, the modern interpretation of nations would mean crossing all “boundaries” to invite people of all ages, races, sexes, sexual preferences, political leanings, etc.

[2] The Discipleship Adventure that our Annual Conference has embarked on for the past seven years has been an attempt to respond to this deeper crisis.

Where I Have Seen Jesus Lately?

2011-05-19T11:19:00.010-04:00

Some day you’ll come, darkness will cease.

True light will dawn, everyone will then see.

Everything new, we’ll finally see you.

Awaiting that day, searching for more.

While all along you are

found with the poor.

Help me to see that you’re all around me…

Our praises arise.

As we come to recognize.

Jesus is near.

Glory is here.

—“Glory is Here”, Michael Gungor Band

I ask myself in light of what I wrote in my previous post on the Ascension and "seeing" in new ways: Where have I seen Jesus lately? Recently I took some time to search for thin places where the veil between heaven and earth thins and God seems close to me. I came up with a few.

Holy Moments With My Wife. It was an extremely busy week for my family. A longtime member of one of our churches passed away, which meant that on top of all the normal activities, Laurie had a funeral to plan and participate in this week. But despite our business Laurie and I managed to get some good time together this week. Sometimes I think I see Jesus most clearly when I see him through my wife’s beautiful eyes.

Entering Into My Children’s Worlds. I’ve enjoyed playing baseball with my son Brady—who is playing T-ball this year. My getting down and entering into his world means a lot to him and—here’s the surprise—it means a lot to me too. I can tend to get caught up in all the tasks that have to get done around the house and disconnect from the people that actually live in the house. Growing up, this was what my parents tended to do; I won’t say they never entered my world, but it was less frequent then I would have liked. So I didn’t have a particularly good model of how to enter in to my children’s lives and my natural tendency is to do what comes natural: i.e., stay aloof. But I hope and pray that God my Heavenly Parent will supply what I lack and help me to enter in. Perhaps, in some strange way, there is healing for me in being able to supply for my son and daughter what I was not given.

And the effort must be working on some level and having a positive impact on my son. At practice the other night some of the adults were hitting balls to the kids. Brady was out in the field but when it came time for me to hit he said to his friends, “You better watch it. My dad can hit it very far!” While his sense of my athletic prowess is quite distorted, it’s nevertheless good affirmation for me, and it shows that the effort to enter his world is bearing fruit.

Simple Joys of Parenting. After T-ball practice last Wednesday I had what you might call a God-moment. Brady and Becca were playing at a playground with two other girls. At one point they were running through across one of the baseball fields and making piles of the freshly mown grass. They ran ahead of me enjoying the lovely May evening. As I watched them play without a trace of fear or concern, it felt really good—a little sliver of heaven making itself visible in this moment for my enjoyment. As the Sun set over that field, I found myself aware of the presence of God and thankful for the opportunity to be a parent. I think moments of clarity like the one I experienced that night help sustain me throughout the long stretches of mundane day-to-day parenting—and in life in general—that don’t seem particularly “holy” at all. Parenting is a very large responsibility; I won’t deny it tires me out and stretches me out of my comfort zone an sometimes I don’t respond all that well to being stretched. But then there are the moments when I am reminded of the incredible privilege God has given me to help him co-create two young lives.

In the Garden. One of our churches has a nice flower garden outside. Some people at the church offer their service to keep it maintained throughout the year. It is a true labor of love and a great gift for our church; the beauty of the place is a true blessing to me each time I walk past it. Beginning with the hardiest perennials popping through as soon as the snow melts (if not before), progressing through the summer, and lasting to the first killing frost, the garden offers up a place of ever-changing natural beauty. For the past couple of months I have made a practice of spending some time outside in the garden between Sunday School and worship. I sit on one of the marble benches and enjoy the natural beauty of the place and reflect, pray, journal, etc. I think it has been good discipline just to have some quiet time to reflect and prepare for worship. I think it makes my experience during “formal” worship more impactful when I have spent time ahead of it. Perhaps it “creates space” for God to enter my conscience when I go into the sanctuary inside. God is always there, but like a radio improperly tuned to receive the broadcast, I can miss the Presence if I am not tuned in.

At an Outdoor Chapel. We live in a parsonage—but not one owned by our two churches; we rent from a Lutheran church in our community. There is what I would describe as a small “open air chapel” at the rear of the church property. There is a little brick patio with two benches positioned facing a simple wooden altar and three stone statues showing different depictions of Jesus. If I stand at the altar I literally look into the eyes of Jesus on the cross adorned in flowing robes. Though the road is only a few hundred feet away, the chapel faces the woods and it feels somehow secluded—and sacred. You can see and hear the natural beauty of creation as you pray—the trees, the birds, etc. In the stillness this place I find that I connect with God. Here in this simple sanctuary, I can come and quiet the “noise” of my life long enough to at least give myself a chance to hear God’s “still small voice” when God tries to get my attention during the remainder of my day.

How about you? Where have you seen Jesus lately? Where are the thin places in your life?

I'm sure that some of us can answer this question more easily than others. If you find it easy to "see" Jesus now, be thankful for the gift of intimacy with God. If you are struggling to "see" right now, take heart. Scripture gives us the calm assurance that God is always near and promises us that if we seek him we will find him; God is eager to have fellowship with us. If we still ourselves, and train ourselves to listen, and look, we might realize that Jesus was in the places, faces, and spaces of our lives all along; we just didn't have eyes to see; we didn't expect to see him in those places. I hope that as we become increasingly aware of the presence of God permeating all of our lives and our world it will impact the way we live our lives. May "our praises rise, as we come to recognize: Jesus is near... and glory is here!"

Ascending With Jesus: Seeing With Different Eyes

2011-05-18T15:07:00.006-04:00

As we continue our journey through the Church’s liturgical year, Easter and the resurrection fades in the rear-view mirror, and we pass onto the road less travelled. If you are Orthodox or Catholic, chances are you have some familiarity with this part of the year, but on the whole, Protestants do not. If we follow the trail-map laid out in the lectionary, we find that the next mile-marker to be aware of is an event that takes place 40 days after the resurrection (June 2 this year, and observed in church on June 5) called the Ascension. It marks the day when Jesus was taken up from the disciples[1]. So far as we know, it’s the last time the disciples or anyone—with the possible exception of Paul—ever saw Jesus “in the flesh”. (Ten days after that, on the day of Pentecost, the Holy Spirit descends on a group of Jewish believers in Jerusalem, and ushers in a whole new chapter of God’s Story as the Church is born and becomes the means through which the Message of Jesus will spread around the world.)

Despite what the Gospels say, I can’t help but think that for the earthbound disciples, the Ascension was probably a bittersweet day. I mean think about it, they are just beginning to wrap their brains around the astonishing fact that there friend and master has risen from the dead—a feat no other person had accomplished before nor has been repeated sense—and now they have to say good bye all over again. It had to feel like emotional whiplash.

Jesus tried over and over again when he was alive to explain to them what was going to happen. He told his followers, and showed them by his example, that it is better for them, and more importantly, for the world, that he departs from them. He has also assured them that he will not leave them alone to face the world. On some level, the disciples may have been beginning to understand this, but keep in mind we’re only talking about a little over a month since the resurrection. If it were me, I think I would still be a little dazed and confused after all that had happened recently. I would think they still would feel a sense of loss as they stood on that mountain and watched Jesus disappear. Did they really believe the promises that Jesus had made? Could they possibly have fully understood them at that point? Maybe… but I think it’s more true to life to assume that they were probably were still struggling with quite a bit of unbelief and uncertainty about what was going on.

These men and women have become intimate friends of Jesus; hey literally did life together for the past three years. Up until now, whenever any of them wanted to talk to Jesus, they went to him and spoke with him face-to-face, the way you and I converse with our friends—remember, no e-mails, texting, or Facebook back then! Now, all of a sudden, Christ is no longer with them in bodily form. The physical separation had to be difficult at first. It might not be unlike what you and I feel when we lose a loved one to death.

Of course Jesus wasn’t dead; he was very much alive. In fact, he’s now more alive than ever! For a time the Second Person of the Trinity voluntarily chose to limit himself to a human body so that he could set us free to be all we were created to be as human beings. Now, however, that time has past! The Ascension marks the moment in time when Jesus returns to his rightful place in heaven and resumes the form he has had since the Beginning. Jesus now exists as he always existed; he reigns over Creation as Spirit, and spirit is every bit as real as the physical body.

The problem is that, like most human beings, the disciples aren’t used to interacting with a Spirit. We typically interact with other human beings who also have bodies just like us. But now they have to learn to cultivate a relationship with a real Person that they cannot see with their eyes. I can imagine that it might have been difficult at first. They had to adjust their vision to a new reality. It took time… and practice but eventually they began to see—in fact they came to “see” Jesus with clarity they never had before.

This, more than any other fact, probably accounts for the transformation we see in the disciples between the Gospels and Acts. We see disciples who denied, betrayed, and abandoned Jesus changed into bold and courageous preachers and evangelists who spread the Gospel all around the Ancient World.

As we begin to see and experience the fullness of who Jesus really is, we can begin to “see” and experience the fullness of all we have been created to be.

In your Ascension,

May I also ascend,

To give my full attention,

As your servant and your friend.

— “In Your Crucifixion”, Brian McLaren

I certainly seek to experience that “fullness” in my life but if I am honest, at times it seems elusive. I think I relate a little bit to what these men and women must have felt after the Ascension. It’s fair to say that I too have been struggling to “see “ Jesus lately. All that we have lived through over the past few years has taken its toll on me. Life experience and theological reflection have converged and resulted in soul-searching in recent days. I’ve been challenged to think about what I really believe. I have changed and while it’s not necessarily a bad thing, it has certainly impacted my faith and my experience of the divine. I don’t feel blind to God’s presence, so much as I feel like my vision has been blurred. I find myself in a new place (both theologically and experientially) and I am still adjusting my vision to the new reality.

Some of the old ways I used to connect with God don’t seem as effective as they once were and I seek to discover new ones that work in the place I now find myself.

I do see glimpses of new things God may be doing in my life but I struggle to gain clarity about my specific role in the process. I try to move forward hoping to gain clarity as I journey and it’s happening but it’s not a fast process. It takes time… it takes patience… it takes practice. And like the disciples in the presence of the risen Lord, I don’t think I always trust what I’m seeing.

As I have wrestled with my beliefs and struggled at times to “see” God, a song has spoken to my spirit. Perhaps the words that resonate the most are from its second verse and chorus.

In oceans and hills, and in ancient skies;

Hidden in faces and pain and delight; glory is here,

And I get a glimpse of You.

In silence and prayer; in bread and wine;

Somehow the common become the divine.

You’re making me new.

I’m starting to see You.

Our praises arise.

As we come to recognize.

Jesus is near.

Glory is here.

—“Glory is Here”, Michael Gungor Band

I like the song because it challenges me to see God in places where I might not be accustomed to looking for God’s presence… but it also lifts up some places and spaces where I have often sensed the divine presence—e.g., nature, other people, contemplation. It affirms that God is in all things, not an impersonal force of nature, but a brooding Spirit that enlivens all living things and equips them for their specific role in the ongoing drama of Creation. My challenge is to learn to “see” God in all the places, faces, and spaces along my journey where his Spirit dwells.

[1] The Synoptic (meaning they are similar) Gospels all briefly mention this event [Matthew 28:16-20; Mark 16:19-20 (the longer ending of Mark); Luke 24:50-53] as does Acts 1:6-11. Interestingly John’s Gospel doesn’t really mention the Ascension per se.

Can it Be?! Becca is Three!

2011-05-02T13:39:00.004-04:00

I passed by … and I said to you, “Live!” —Ezekiel 16:6

Can she really be three already!? Impossible! It seems like just a moment ago I held her in my arms for the first time and now she’s a beautiful little girl twirling around in her pretty Easter dress.

This milestone is always a bittersweet one for her mother and me. By now most of you know the story of our girls. You know that two girls celebrate a birthday this day, but we only get to have a party for one of them. (Though I suspect Hope Marie is having one heck of a party where she is today—where she is maybe the celebration never ends, and perhaps every day is your birthday J.) We wouldn’t be honest if we didn't say: “Happy birthday Hope. Mommy and daddy miss you today...”

But on this day we choose to focus on celebrating of the gift of Rebecca May…

It’s so amazing to watch her grow up! Sometimes raising two small children whilst juggling jobs and ministry is not easy—but it is always good. The bond between my son and I is neat, but the daddy–daughter bond is really special—you dads of daughters will no doubt know what I mean. Every time I bend down to Becca and she gives me a hug and a little peck on the cheek when I drop her off at daycare, or when she runs to me in the afternoon and says “Daddy!”, my heart sings. It can have been a long and tiring day, but her smile lifts me up and energizes me. Every time we flutter about our house together doing our silly little “Rebecca dance” together and she smiles, I like it as much or more than she does. Even when I struggle to get her to go to bed some nights, I rejoice on some level that she has such spirit within her that it’s sometimes hard to settle her down. When the day comes she doesn’t want to do those things with her daddy anymore, it will surely be gut-wrenching for me. You want your child to find their wings—but please God not too soon J.

The name Rebecca means “to bind” and I find that meaning fitting, for surely her presence in our lives has been a healing balm, a touch of grace, a focus on life and on resurrection, that helped bind together our wounded hearts and souls these past few years. Hope means “expectation and belief” and after our experience I would say that we seek to live each day with honest hope. We don’t deny that life is hard and at times difficult to understand, but because of our faith in Jesus we also believe that life as it was “meant to be” is good and beautiful, and we are meant to be the ones who work with God to make that goodness and beauty visible in our world. With God’s help, we truly expect that the “best” really is yet to come—for all of creation.

We will never forget Hope; she is forever part of our story, but because Becca lives—and most of all because Jesus lives—we live fully in the present and stand ready to face whatever tomorrow brings. Because He lives—our Hope endures…

When Resurrection Seems Impossible

2011-04-26T16:57:00.003-04:00

The first Easter was that wondrous moment in history when the empty tomb was discovered and, in an instant, “everything changed” for the followers of Jesus… and for the world as we know it. But as amazing and wondrous as it was, it took a while for Jesus’ closest friends and followers to figure it out… Why?

Frankly, I think it was because, after the events of Friday and Saturday, resurrection would have probably been the furthest thing from their minds. At that moment, seized by grief and despair, resurrection seemed impossible.

When the women set off for the tomb in the wee hours of Sunday it is clear that they are going to visit a dead body and prepare it for proper burial. When they arrive at the tomb, they are completely shocked to find that the rather large stone in front of the tomb has been rolled away and even more astonished to discover that Jesus’ body is missing. They are seized with fear and amazement as they scurry about trying to figure out who moved the stone, and more importantly, what has become of Jesus’ body. Some of these women had stood and watched Jesus die on the cross; they witnessed the brutality of the Romans firsthand and looked Jesus square in the eye as he breathed his last. They certainly didn’t equate seeing the tomb empty with any notion that Jesus was somehow alive—that would’ve seemed impossible.

Even once the men learn about the empty tomb, they don’t immediately think of resurrection. Peter and John go to the tomb to see what is going on with their own eyes. They are as amazed by the news as the women are, and are trying to figure out what in the world is going on, and what has happened to Jesus’ body. (John’s Gospel suggests that upon entering the empty tomb, John believed, as if to suggest he figured out what had happened in that moment. I personally think that may be a bit of hyperbole on the part of the author—to make him look good.)

For these grieving, distraught disciples, it had to seem like adding insult to injury to have the body of Jesus missing and not know what had happened to it. Somebody might have vaguely remembered Jesus saying something about “rising again”, but then quickly dismissed the thought as impossible. They knew that no one—and I do mean no one—endured the kind of torture Jesus endured at the hands of Rome and lived to tell about it. They knew that crucifixion was permanent!

This might help us understand why, later, when the Risen Lord stood right in front of them, resurrection still seemed impossible for them to believe.

We know that in time, however, this view changed dramatically. Scholars debate the exact nature of the disciple’s experiences when they “saw” Jesus on a number of occasions after the resurrection, but none debate that these encounters with Jesus impacted all of them profoundly and convinced them that he was in fact risen.

We see that profound change on display in the continuation of the Story in Acts— the second volume of Luke’s two-volume account of the story of Jesus and the Early Church. Acts focuses on the birth and spread of the Church. Here we see that:

· a band of confused, scared, and grieving disciples have—in a fairly short amount of time—become focused and fearless advocates of the Kingdom of God thoroughly convinced that though Jesus is no longer present bodily, he is very much alive and active in the world.

· God uses rather ordinary people—very much like you and me—to do amazing things and uses these signs and wonders (and their preaching!) to proclaim the present availability of the Kingdom to the world.

· empowered by the Holy Spirit, these ordinary men and women—some of whom failed Jesus so utterly—are now the means through which the Message of Jesus spreads around the Ancient World.

· these same men and women—once too afraid to stay with Jesus to the end—have now become so utterly convinced of the reality of Jesus and the “truth” of his counter-cultural message of love and justice that they are now willing to die for what they believe.

· Peter—a man who struggled mightily the past three years to understand who Jesus was, even at one point going so far as to deny he was a follower of Jesus to protect his own well-being—now begins to fulfill his own destiny as The Rock on which Jesus will build his church. J

· Paul—a “righteous” Jew who spent his life zealously persecuting the young Church—has his own unique encounter with the Risen Lord and becomes one of the most passionate advocates of the Church—and the one uniquely gifted to bring the message of Jesus to the Gentiles.

If on that Saturday after Jesus died, you had told those disciples huddled in that room fearing for their lives all that lay ahead for them, they would have probably thought you were crazy. But a funny thing happens when Jesus enters our lives: Suddenly the impossible becomes possible.

Resurrection doesn’t seem possible; we can’t explain how it worked. (And not being able to explain it makes some of us seek to discredit it.) And yet, it’s the very thing on which our faith as followers of Christ hinges. If it didn’t happen, as Paul say in 1 Corinthians 15 our faith is futile (v17)… and we are to be pitied more than anyone (v19). But Paul is convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that resurrection did happen (v20), and that fact fuels his passion for proclaiming the Message. He has seen his own life profoundly changed and believes that kind of change is possible for all who choose to follow the Way of Jesus.

But what about you? Do you believe what Paul says—and what Jesus says?

One of my favorite lines of Scripture is: “Lord I want to believe help me with my unbelief.” I have been a follower of Christ for years, and I know what I ought to believe about the resurrection: With God, the impossible becomes possible…

But have I actually experienced this reality in my life the way the Apostles did?

The most honest answer I can give to that question is: “yes and no”. I look back over the trajectory of my life and see God making things that at one point seemed impossible, possible.

· There was a point when I seriously doubted that I would finish graduate school… I now have a Masters of Science hanging on my wall.

· There was a point when I seriously doubted that I would find a spouse… In July I will celebrate eight years of marriage to my wonderful wife Laurie.

· There was a point where Laurie and I weren’t sure we could have any biological children… I now have a five-year old son and a three-year old daughter.

But then there are areas of my life where if you looked back over my journals and could eavesdrop on my prayers and conversations with friends, you’d see me wrestling with the same things over and over again. The specific circumstances change over the years, but the “core issues” remain the same. These are the addictions I can’t seem to break, the habits and behaviors I just can’t seem to change no matter what impact it has on others around me—whether it be family, friends, coworkers, etc. These are the things the Enemy uses to hold me back from feeling “fully alive”!

These are the “tombs” in my heart with “stones” in front that seem so large that I sometimes wonder if even God can roll them away.

And to be honest, I’m not always sure I want the “stones” rolled away. Some “stones” I keep around to “protect” me from being exposed to the wiles of the world. They have been around so long that I can’t imagine life without them.

But until I let Jesus into my “tombs”, I fear that so many things I long for in this life—perhaps none greater than the experience of true joy—will continue to elude me. Jesus raised Lazarus to life and he offers me—and all of us—the same gift. He wants us to come out of our “tombs” and experience the fullness of the resurrection in every aspect of life. He calls to me saying: “ Alan, come out!”…

But Jesus will never force me to come out; that choice is mine. Will I come out or will I remain in the safe, familiar, and comfortable “tomb” I have been hiding in for so long? Will I put aside my fears and finally believe that with God the impossible really is possible—yes, even for me.

Holy Saturday: A Day of Few Words

2011-04-22T22:11:00.004-04:00

For God alone my soul waits in silence; from him comes my salvation. He alone is my rock and my salvation. —Psalm 62:1-2

Of the four Gospel writers, Mark’s version is the most action-packed. Mark doesn’t waste many words so we should pay attention to every word we read. While Mark does not describe some events that other Gospel writers do, there are some details in his account that are unique to his telling of the story. Also, Mark’s is thought to be the oldest account of the life of Jesus dating from around 70 AD. Other Gospel writers likely borrowed from Mark when they wrote, so there is some sense that his words carry added authenticity.

When it comes to the story of the last week of Jesus’ life—what we call Holy Week— Mark’s account is probably the easiest to figure out what events happened on what day. Mark describes a steady stream of events from Palm Sunday through Good Friday—see Mark 11–15. From Thursday night on, the events come in rapid succession. There is the Last Supper where “communion” is instituted, Jesus’ betrayal and arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane, the trial before the High Priest, Peter’s denial of Jesus, the trial before Pilate and release of Barabbas to satisfy the crowd, and the suffering and humiliation of Christ, the walk down the Via Delarosa to Calvary—all culminating in the crucifixion of Jesus.

But then, as we come to the end of Mark 15, it almost looks like something is missing. There has been all this action and then suddenly—nothing. An entire day passes with no words to describe it[1]. When we pick up the action in Mark 16, it is early on Sunday and the women are on their way to the tomb.

What are we to make of this lack of words, this relative silence about Saturday from all four Gospel writers?

If we answer strictly from our modern human perspective, we might be tempted to think nothing is said because what happened on Saturday wasn’t all that important to the story. If it was, the writers would have said so, wouldn’t they? In today’s information saturated world, every detail would be documented and posted on message boards, blogs, Facebook, and Twitter—and then we would have to figure out what details really mattered. And after all, if the events of Saturday were so important to remember, wouldn’t we have a church service that day too? (Yes, I know some places do. J)

In his memoirs called The Pastor, Eugene Petersen talks about his experience as a child working in his father’s butcher shop on the Saturday before Easter. His family were devout church goers and worshipped faithfully on Good Friday and of course Easter Sunday, but for them, “Holy” Saturday was a like any other day if not more so. The day before Easter was a day of brisk commerce at the shop as everyone rushed to purchase the ham for tomorrow’s dinner. While Jesus’ body was lying in the tomb silent and still, the Petersen’s were busy making a living; I suppose it’s what you did if you were in that profession.

I’m afraid that two thousand years of church history has robbed Easter Sunday of much of its wonder and amazement. For our post-Christian world, there’s not much in the way of suspense between Friday and Sunday anymore. We know how the story ends and we kind of view the middle as boring and unimportant—and, frankly, we often skip directly to the end of the story because that’s the part we like the most. Perhaps we attend an Easter Egg Hunt or some other secular event that reminds us that it’s the Saturday before Easter, but that’s typically about the size of it. I think it’s safe to say that the vast majority of us are like the Petersen family; we go on with business as usual in our lives on Holy Saturday.

Even for clergy and their families—maybe especially for us—the Saturday before Easter (and frankly the entire week leading up to it) is usually extremely busy. As a pastor’s spouse I can attest that we are often scurrying about on Holy Saturday trying to squeeze in something fun for our kids, and making final preparations for Easter Sunday worship. Holy Saturday is by no means a day of rest and reflection for the Ward family. For clergy families like ours, it’s business as usual on the day before Easter—in fact it tends to be one of the most hectic days of our year!

But we should remember that there was none of this over-familiarity for Jesus’ first followers. For these men and women, Saturday—the Jewish Sabbath day—dawned eerily quiet and still. They huddled together that Saturday hiding from the Roman authorities. It was a Sabbath day of mourning their fallen friend laced with fearing for their own lives. What they witnessed Friday night was terrible, but Saturday was probably even worse for them. Jesus, their teacher and leader these past three years, is dead and buried. The sense of anxiety and even outright despair in the room where they hid after the crucifixion must have been so thick you could cut it with a knife.

On that first Holy Saturday, it appears that evil has triumphed. All hopes the disciples had for the Messiah to come and liberate them have failed. Jesus is dead; God has left them alone to face their fate.

When the Sabbath ended on Saturday evening the disciples had little or no idea that the wondrous events of Sunday morning were about to unfold. You can see it in the their stunned reactions when the women bring them the news of the empty tomb. It catches them completely off guard; they have to run and see for themselves. Even once they see with their own eyes they still aren’t sure quite what to make of it all. It takes a while for the reality of what actually happened to sink in.

As we pull back and see Holy Saturday from God’s perspective we learn an important lesson: Sometimes God does his most important work when, from our limited human viewpoint, God appears to be “absent” or even “dead”.

Did you know there is an entire doctrine of theology (God-talk) devoted to what was happening on Holy Saturday? The doctrine is called the harrowing of hell[2] and it states that while Jesus’ body was lying sealed in a tomb, still and silent from our human perspective, a divine drama played out in a realm our eyes cannot see. Christ descended to hell and set free many captives who had died before. (This would have been consistent one of the major streams of Jewish beliefs at the time where the Messiah was to lead a “general” resurrection of all the faithful Jews who had died as martyrs.) The Apostle’s Creed is one of the earliest summaries of Christian belief; it is still used today in many churches and certain versions of it include the line: “He descended to the dead”.

Clearly, the earliest followers of Jesus believed that whatever Jesus did on Saturday was a vital precursor to what would happen Sunday, and felt it worth mentioning in a summary of what they believed.

For the most part, the writers of Scripture, writing a few decades after Jesus lived, chose not to tackle this topic. You will find what seems to be a rather awkward reference to it in Matthew—compare Mark 15:33-39 with Matthew 27:45-54—and there are a few other places in the New Testament that appear to reference the idea.

It’s not clear exactly why the New Testament writers weren’t more explicit about what happened to Jesus on Holy Saturday. There are a variety of answers that have been suggested. Frankly, my guess is that there are some topics that defy being expressed adequately in words and what Jesus was doing on Saturday is one of those topics. It’s what theologians would call a mystery. That doesn’t mean it’s not important but it does mean that it’s hard to explain and categorize neatly. Such mystery may offend our modern theological sensibilities, especially in the Christian West, but a good storyteller isn’t bothered by a bit of mystery and intrigue—and we should remember that the Gospel-writers were first and foremost storytellers.

I think it makes the Story of Jesus even more compelling and wondrous when every detail is not spelled out explicitly. We’re left to speculate and use our God-given creative imagination to fill in the missing pieces. We discover that there are indeed times when silence speaks louder than words… … …

[1] The truth is, very little is said about Saturday in any of the gospels. Luke 23:56b simply says that the disciples rested on the Sabbath as the law commanded. Matthew 27:62-66 tells us that the Jewish authorities go to Pilate and request that guards be posted at Jesus’ tomb “until the third day” to prevent Jesus’ followers from removing the body and making “false” claims of resurrection. But none of them say anything about what Jesus was doing on Saturday, when from our human perspective, his body lay in a tomb—dead.

[2] Eastern Orthodox Christians would likely be more familiar with this doctrine than most of us in the West; they celebrate it in their worship on Holy Saturday. There is interesting symbolism used as the liturgical colors start out somber and dark, but are changed to white in the middle of worship symbolizing that the harrowing of hell has taken place and the resurrection of Jesus is now imminent.

The Final 24 Hours: When the World Failed Jesus

2011-04-21T14:44:00.002-04:00

During Lent our parish has done a study of a book called 24 Hours That Changed the World. Adam Hamilton walked us through the events of Holy Thursday and Good Friday. At every step on our journey to our cross we encountered different characters in the drama, and we were challenged to “find ourselves” in them. We see on display in those final days a microcosm of the worst of human behavior. We see again and again how people failed Jesus when he needed them most.

Of course, there were the disciples, thought to be 12 of Jesus’ closest friends. They were intimate allies for three years, and yet, in a one-week period, one by one, just had Jesus had predicted on several occasions, they all failed their teacher and friend. Judas betrayed Jesus for 30 silver coins; Peter, James & John (perhaps his closest friends in the world) fell asleep over and over again as Jesus wrestled with his fate in Gethsemane; as Jesus confessed his identity to the High Priest, Peter denied his—not once, not twice, but three times; and every one of his followers abandoned him after his arrest, some fleeing naked and humiliated.

But beyond his close friends, many others failed Jesus along the path to the Cross. Consider the Ruling Council—the Scribes and Pharisees. Alleged to be 71 of the most pious people on the planet, they couldn’t recognize God-with-us when he was standing right in front of them. Not one of them was willing to stand up and say: “What we are doing is wrong.” (Some like Nicodemus may have secretly had other views, but they weren’t willing to voice them during the trial; they went along with the majority.) They unanimously agreed that Jesus should die. They were too consumed with fear and hatred to see clearly. He threatened their comfortable relationship with Rome and he had to be eliminated.

And what about the crowds? Throngs of people welcomed him on Sunday as he entered town. They thought he was the Messiah who would set them free. By Thursday, however, most of those people are gone. Crowds tend to be fickle; crowds can be easily manipulated. The religious and political rulers are master manipulators. (In his own way, Jesus knew how to “work” a crowd too, but it seemed that what he said stirred up hope within people, as opposed to fear.) Support for Jesus quickly erodes during the week. By the wee hours of Friday morning, a very different crowd gathers in front of Fortress Antonia—Pilate’s residence. It’s much smaller and it’s angry. This crowd is made up of people who don’t like what Jesus represents. Maybe the merchants whose livelihood Jesus disrupted on Monday, or the temple authorities whom Jesus had publicly insulted when he taught the crowds on Tuesday, or others threatened by this itinerant rabbi from the Galilee. Whoever they were, it’s clear that most had an axe to grind with Jesus? In fact, when faced with the choice of whether to set Jesus or Barabbas—a convicted insurrectionist and murderer—free, they choose Barabbas without much hesitation. When Pilate asks what he should do with Jesus, to a man, they all shout, “Crucify him!” There is not one with the courage to stand up and say: “What we are doing is wrong.” Sadly, as often happens, the mob mentality rules the day and Jesus is convicted to die.

As representative of Rome, Pilate himself has ultimate power in Jerusalem. When the Council sends Jesus to him, he has a chance to make things right. But he doesn’t do it. Pilate knows that Jesus is an innocent man, he said as much himself, but in the end he capitulates to the will of the crowd. He’s afraid of what might happen if he doesn’t. So he orders the so-called “King of the Jews” to be crucified with two other convicted rebels. Here is the most powerful man in Jerusalem unwilling to go against the wishes of this small but angry crowd of mostly Jewish people assembled before him. He washes his hands of responsibility; he even tries to “pass the buck” to Herod who in turn sends him back to Pilate. Nobody wants the blood of Jesus on their hands—ironic since Jesus’ blood ends up on the “hands” of the whole world. In the end the political leaders like Pilate and Herod are more interested in protecting the “Roman peace” than doing what is right.

And then there are the many Roman Soldiers who carry out Pilate’s orders with grim efficiency. They beat and torture Jesus; they flog him mercilessly; they spit on him and verbally abuse him; they strip him naked and parade him through the down the Via Delarosa to Golgotha where he will be crucified. It’s amazing what human beings have the capacity to do when an “authority figure” tells us it’s okay. Unspeakable atrocities are committed that Friday morning, but not one person present has the courage to stand up and say: “What we are doing to this man is wrong?!” They have become so convinced that Jesus deserves what he is getting that they become numb to what they are doing. Jesus has challenged Caesar’s authority—so they have been led to believe—and no one does that and lives.

In the final analysis, isn’t everyone of us a “failed disciple”? Don’t we all stand in need of God’s mercy and forgiveness?

Haven’t we all denied, betrayed, abandoned, or otherwise let Jesus down at some point when he needed us to come through? Don’t we all know deep down that we fall short of what we were created to be? Don’t we long to be set free from whatever keeps us from being all we can be? When Jesus says, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do,” he’s not just talking to those people who were there that day, he’s talking to all of humanity. But he’s also talking to us all when he says, “It is finished!” In essence he says, the world has done it’s worse to me but I still love them—and, as we will find out Sunday morning, he still lives!

The wondrous news of the empty tomb on Easter morning has so much more power and impact on our lives after we’ve taken time to walk the road to the Cross, and realize how badly we all fail Jesus, and how badly we need the forgiveness and freedom that only the resurrection of Jesus can offer.

The Night that Changed Everything

2011-04-21T11:37:00.002-04:00

The following is something I wrote in 2006 for Holy Thursday. The info is primarily drawn from the events described in John 13-18. If you read those chapters you can get a good feel for where some of this comes from, and perhaps draw your own conclusions about what was going on that fateful Holy Thursday night. Have fun digging in to the Story!

It was a night I’ll never forget as long as I live. I still remember it like it was yesterday. Jesus had come into Jerusalem a few days earlier with such fanfare. He didn’t seem to seek it out, but it came to him anyway. He rode in upon the back of a humble donkey, but they still welcomed him like royalty. The people spread their cloaks before him and waved palm branches as he entered the city. He didn’t seek out the crowds, but the crowds found him. Word of Jesus’ miraculous deeds such as the raising of his good friend Lazarus from the dead had spread about the countryside and people came from all over hoping to catch a glimpse of Jesus, hoping perhaps to see another miracle that would make them believe. It was a good time to be in the company of Jesus. It was all very exhilarating. But it didn’t last …

In the next few days, when Jesus failed to meet the expectations of the people, the crowds died away. It seemed like they came expecting Jesus to perform for them, to fulfill their ideas about what a king should be, and when he failed to produce, public opinion quickly seemed to turn against him. I’m sure the Scribes and Pharisees were stirring things up too. Even on Sunday as the crowds cheered, I’m sure they were there lurking in the shadows watching from a distance, looking for a way to eliminate Jesus. Jesus didn’t really hide from his enemies either; in fact he challenged them at every turn. By midweek, there was almost an audible sense that the mood was shifting; you could cut the tension in the air over Jerusalem with a knife.

I remember Jesus summoned us—the twelve who represented his inner circle if you will—to an upstairs room above an in Jerusalem that Thursday night so we could eat the Passover meal together. But that wasn’t all he had in mind that night. After supper, Jesus filled a basin with water, stripped off his outer robe, wrapped a towel around him, and proceeded to kneel and wash each of our feet and dry them with the towel. In that moment he changed everything for us. He redefined what it meant to be a leader in God’s kingdom. Our master and teacher these past few years, the one we had come to believe to be the promised Messiah, was stooping to do the job that even the lowliest servant tried to avoid. It was a nasty, dirty task that no one particularly volunteered for, but here was Jesus voluntarily doing it for us. We didn’t know what to think!?

Most of us were too stunned to say much. I’m one to take things in and reflect on them and write about them later. But then there’s Simon Peter … Peter was never at a loss for words … not even now … Of course, he tended to speak first and ask questions later, and sometimes that got him into trouble. Peter rebukes Jesus and says that he won’t let his Lord wash his feet. Jesus tells Peter that unless he washes his feet, then Peter has no part of what Jesus is doing, and then of course, Peter, always with a flair for the dramatic, says, “Well then not just my feet but my whole body!” The rest of us are watching this whole thing play out in stunned silence. We’ve been together for a while and we realize this is vintage Peter. I confess I always chuckle a bit when Peter’s big mouth gets him in trouble with Jesus, but, to be honest, I was right there with Peter. I just didn’t have the courage to admit it out loud. Jesus finishes with Peter, puts his robe back on, and sits back down at the table, hardly missing a beat.

Then Jesus goes on to speak in detail about what is about to happen that night and beyond. He talks about how he is about to be betrayed, not by some outsider but by one of his closest followers. Peter leans over to me at this point and says, “I bet it’s Judas; I’ve never trusted him.” I dismissed Peter at that moment; after all, he was always cooking up some conspiracy theory about one or the other of us. A little while later though, Jesus whispers something to Judas and Judas storms off into the night. I thought maybe it was just a coincidence, but I certainly took notice. At this point, Peter is indignant and can’t believe that Jesus is so calm. He’s ready to go chasing after Judas, when suddenly Jesus drops a bombshell on Peter: “Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.” Well, at that moment, even Peter is speechless, but he recovers soon enough and categorically announces that he will never betray Jesus. I think it made Peter a bit angry that Jesus would even suggest that he was capable of such an act. And I have to confess, as much as Peter rubbed me the wrong way sometimes, I was a bit stunned. Judas seemed plausible; maybe Bartholomew or Thaddeus; they always seemed a bit shady. But Peter?! Ridiculous! It wasn’t that long ago that Peter had correctly identified who Jesus was, and Jesus had commended Peter and gone so far as to call him The Rock on which Jesus would build his church. How could The Rock deny Jesus? It just didn’t seem possible. Peter was remarkably quiet after that. None of us said much. We just listened rather intently to what Jesus had to say.

As Jesus went on talking that night, it was clear that something major was up, but we were still struggling to understand just what was going on. It was like Jesus was preparing us for something. Looking back, it’s clear he had been preparing us the whole time he was with us. He knew this night was his last chance to educate us in person concerning the kingdom of God that he had talked about so much. It was almost as if he was reviewing all he had taught us these past few years. Jesus made it clear that he soon would be taken from us, but he also made it clear that He wasn’t abandoning us. Somehow, Jesus’ Presence would continue to be with us, even though He would not be there in the flesh any longer. I confess I didn’t get exactly what he meant at the time; it all sounded pretty weird. It wasn’t until well after Resurrection morning that things started dawning on me, no pun intended. Jesus urged us to follow the example that He had set for us while he was with us. He served us and he wanted us to likewise serve the world. He wanted us to be unified in the same way that He and the Father were unified. He warned us that the world wasn’t always going to accept us with open arms, but he reminded us not to lose hope because that the world treated him the very same way. He ended our time together with a powerful prayer. It was actually one of the longest prayers I ever heard Him offer while we were traveling with him, and it was definitely heartfelt. He prayed for himself, but he also prayed much more for us and for those who would come after us.

After he finished praying we headed out to the Kidron valley. There was an olive grove there that Jesus liked to retreat to from time to time. He often looked for a quiet place to get away from all the attention he was drawing. We’d go there sometimes as a group to relax. But as we walked there that night, there was this sense of impending doom. Somehow, I sensed things weren’t ever going to be the same again; all that had happened that night was still swirling about my head. I had been keeping a journal of my time with Jesus, and I scribbled down quite a bit that evening as we rested near the olive grove. I thought it might be helpful later on. A little later, the peace of the evening was shattered. I heard all this commotion and next thing I know, I see Judas coming into the grove leading a detachment of soldiers and some officials from the Chief Priests and Pharisees. Judas walks straight up to Jesus and kisses him on the cheek. It took a moment for me to recognize what was actually happening. I remember at some point thinking, “My God, Peter was right!”

Well, needless to say, we were all on edge, but Jesus was strangely calm. We were all ready to fight back at this point. I wanted Judas to pay for what he had done. We figured the time had finally come for the Messiah to lead us into battle. Everybody waited for Jesus to give the word to strike back at the soldiers, but it never came. Of course, Peter, true to form, takes matters into his own hands. He isn’t about to stand idly by as Jesus is arrested. He’s bullheaded, but in a way, you’ve got to admire the guy. He always acts decisively if not always wisely. As the soldiers move in to arrest Jesus, Peter slashes out with his sword and strikes one of the guards; I believe his name was Malchus. Peter got a good hit and cut the guy’s ear off! I confess; it made me happy. I felt like justice was being served. But what does Jesus do in that moment? He rebukes Peter for acting rashly and even goes so far as to heal the soldier whom Peter had wounded. I guess I should be used to it by now. Jesus was forever baffling us by what he said and did. It was often the opposite of what you would expect. It’s only now looking back, that I begin to understand why he did what he did …

In the end, the soldiers bound Jesus and led him away and Jesus put up little resistance. The rest of us scattered for fear of being arrested along with Jesus. I heard them say they were going to take him to the home of Annas, father-in-law of Caiaphas, the high priest. Peter and I went there as fast as we could. I knew Caiaphas, and so I could enter the courtyard. Peter, on the other hand, couldn’t come in until I vouched for him. I remember the woman who let us in saying to Peter, “Aren’t you one of Jesus’ followers?” Peter of course denied it, and I went along with it. After all, we couldn’t afford to be found out now; we had to get to Jesus if we could. The woman eyed Peter up and down but she let him into the courtyard anyway. We decided to split up at that point. One of us needed to get closer to Jesus and it was clear that Peter couldn’t do that as easily as I could. So Peter decided to lay low and blend into the crowd to see what he could learn about what was going on. There was a charcoal fire nearby and Peter went over to warm himself.

Meanwhile, I worked my way into the home and stood close enough where I could overhear the conversation. Caiaphas was questioning Jesus about his followers and about his teaching. Jesus answered truthfully but it seemed Caiaphas couldn’t handle the truth. The guards started roughing Jesus up; they were looking for an excuse to do it all night long. Jesus never lost his composure, never did anything but speak the truth: “If I have spoken wrongly, testify to the wrong. But if I have spoken rightly, why do you strike me”. I remember about this time that I heard a rooster crow and felt a palpable shiver go through my body.

Early on Friday morning, Jesus was taken from Caiaphas’ home to the headquarters of Pontius Pilate, the Roman Governor, where he would ultimately be sentenced to die on the cross. As Jesus was led away to face his destiny, my mind replayed the conversation we had had the previous night. Jesus had said to Peter, “Before the rooster crows, you will deny me three times.” It seemed unthinkable at the time that Peter would ever deny Jesus, much less deny him three times, but hadn’t he and I both been all too willing to deny Jesus earlier in the evening? Could it actually have happened the way Jesus said it would? Many unthinkable things seemed to be happening. Much of what Jesus had said previously seemed to be coming true. As the crowd was leaving, I looked for Peter, but I never saw him again until after the Resurrection. I could only speculate as to what had happened that night but I knew this … nothing would never be the quite the same for Peter, for me, or for anyone else who followed Jesus.

Is the Resurrection For Real?

2011-04-20T13:30:00.005-04:00

A blog I follow recently raised the question: Is the resurrection for real?

They asked a number of different people to respond in 100 words or less. I wasn’t one of them; but here’s my take anyway. I’ll summarize in 66 words below and then expand on it below…

Is resurrection for real? YES. Can I “observe” it directly? NO. Can I explain all the details of how it worked? NO. Does not seeing and not being able to explain mean something isn’t real? I don't think so. In fact, maybe that's partially the point... The best evidence of resurrection power is the impact it has had on my life and the lives of others.

There’s an analogy I have been thinking of recently: gravity. I know some of the science of how gravity works but I can't explain all the details. (There are physicists who can explain much more details than I can, but to this day there remain mysteries about how fundamental forces like gravity work that no one can explain.) Nevertheless, I don't reject gravity's reality simply because I can't explain all the details.

The main way I know gravity is real is that I experience its effect on my life every single day—e.g., I remain firmly planted in my chair as I write this. My experience convinces me of the reality of this fundamental force of nature.[1]

For me, the reality of the resurrection seems similar. Is it a fact of history? Probably. But exact details are hard for me to know. Each Gospel tells the story a little differently; some details appear inconsistent. However, there seems to be enough evidence for me to say that something extraordinarily real happened on that first Easter.

But at the end of the day resurrection is kind of like gravity. We can't "observe it" directly; none of us were there. We rely on the testimony of New Testament authors[2] (the Gospel writers and Paul) and stories and letters aren’t meant to spell out all the details. We're left with unanswered questions. Some see that as a problem; I do not. A little mystery and intrigue doesn’t bother me; it gives my God-given creative imagination room to roam and speculate about what else was going on that’s not written down.

I would argue that, like gravity, the "reality" of resurrection is seen every day of our lives by the impact it has on "objects" that come in contact with it.

When resurrection (the Risen Lord) is encountered the trajectory of our lives is fundamentally altered. We can list so many examples: Jesus’ disciples, Paul, Augustine, John Wesley, myself; the list goes on. Even the very creation itself is changed by resurrection power—it unleashes the vision of a world restored to what it was meant to be.

Sometimes the change can be quite dramatic, other times, as in my own life, it’s more gradual, but sooner or later when resurrection power gets a hold of you it changes your life.

So all that to say, that, yes, I believe the resurrection is real! I look back over the last few years of my life and I don't know where I would be if I didn't believe in resurrection and its power. I know people survive life without that belief but I have to say I am not sure how they do it.

Life has dealt my family some hard blows, perhaps none harder than losing our infant daughter two days after her birth nearly three years ago. My wife and I have experienced some of the darkness and despair that the first followers of Jesus must have felt when their beloved teacher and friend lay dead on Saturday—each in our own unique ways. But I would say that we’ve also experienced glimpses of resurrection power that have helped to sustain us when the going gets tough. We have been able to persevere because, deep down, we believe that in the end that power will triumph. A popular song has resonated with me in recent days; the first line speaks volumes: After the last tear falls, there is LOVE. Indeed…

Maybe the best proof of what we believe, and the best tribute we could offer to our daughter, is that my family strives to live each day in hope. We want to play our part in bringing about the future God dreams of for our world. We each seek to discover and become the person God has created us to be, my wife as pastor and me as her spouse—and aspiring writer. We want to encourage and support one another in our pursuits and also encourage our children to discover and pursue their gifts.

Along the way, in the midst of a hectic and busy life, we try to find moments for our family to simply have fun—to laugh together, to love together, and hopefully, to live life to the full. Sometimes joy—which I confess I sometimes struggle to experience—sneaks up on me and surprises me. I am thankful for that and I hope it is a more frequent visitor in my life.

I find comfort that Hope is already experiencing the fullness of that resurrection power. What I see dimly and experience indirectly she experiences directly and fully. And I don’t know how it will work, but I believe that someday we will experience it together…

I’m not a big visions guy; that’s more my wife’s department; but I sort of have this recurring picture of a little girl running to me. I don’t know how I'll know it's Hope—probably because I’ll recognize her as looking like her identical twin sister [see photo].

Anyway, she’ll run to me and say: “Daddy! It’s so wonderful that you are finally here. There’s someone I want you to meet! He’s been waiting a long time to meet you in person…”

Then in an instant every fear, anxiety, and insecurity will disappear and I will finally know beyond knowing that “I did have what it takes to make it…” I’ll enter into the presence of God and experience the unbridled joy that so often eludes me in this life. Reunited with Hope and perhaps with others who have gone on before me, we will respond the only way we can; we will bow down and worship the one who trampled over death by death. But this worship won’t be an “endless church service”; it will be living life as it was meant to be. It will be like the culmination of a dream, only it will be reality—as real as real can be.

[1] As an interesting aside, NASA (for whom I work) has an Earth Science mission called the Gravity Recovery and Climate Experiment (GRACE). That’s an interesting acronym choice isn’t it? Gravity is a fundamental force of nature and grace is a fundament aspect of God’s character as revealed in Jesus—the resurrection is really all about grace overflowing. Both gravity and grace are “invisible qualities” that can’t be measured directly, but their “impact” on the Universe is undeniable.

[2] And we would do well to remember that even these witnesses weren’t direct observers of the events they describe.

When Our Models Don't Agree...

2011-03-22T16:12:00.006-04:00

When you study the weather and how it works in detail as I have, you quickly realize that the atmosphere is a chaotic and constantly changing environment. The equations that describe its motion defy a simple solution. Many variables are changing all at once and predicting the weather turns out to be a very complex problem to solve—requiring the use of advanced mathematics I don’t think I ever fully understood. Now you know why I became a writer/editor!

Meteorologists reduce the complexity of the problem by making some simplifying assumptions about the behavior of the atmosphere. This constrains things a bit and allows us to come up with mathematical model of the atmosphere that we can use to predict tomorrow’s weather… and several days into the future. Every model is limited in its ability to predict the weather however—in many cases, precisely because of the assumptions made to simplify the problem.

Forecasters usually use several different models when they make a forecast. For example, when the National Weather Service makes a forecast, they run a whole group of these mathematical models together. Every day, a group of experienced forecasters get together and compare and contrast what the different models are saying to try and get the most complete picture of the real atmosphere possible before they issue a forecast. When the majority of the models are in close agreement about the evolution of the weather pattern, the forecasters can issue a forecast with more confidence than when the various models disagree. (You’ll often hear about these models whenever a snowstorm is the weather forecast. You may hear a forecaster make a statement like, “The models don’t agree…” or “The models are now in agreement.”)

Models are useful tools for helping to predict the behavior of the atmosphere, but the real atmosphere is more complex than any of the models—even the all the models combined fail to fully describe the real atmosphere.

Now, if the atmosphere is so complex to describe, then it only makes sense that the Creator of all that complexity is infinitely more complex to describe. On one hand it’s sort of silly to talk about “solving” God like we solve a math problem. As John Eldredge says it, “Life is not a problem to be solved it is an adventure to be lived.”

But on the other hand, I think drawing an analogy to meteorology has some merit. In both cases we try and take something extremely complex and simplify it so that we can make sense of it. Just like meteorologists model the atmosphere, theologians have likewise come up with various models that help us understand God. They represent our best attempts to make an infinite God more accessible and understandable to finite human beings.

Let’s consider a specific example. What purpose does the coming of Jesus serve in carrying out God’s plan for redeeming the world? Now, I’m sure we’ll all agree that’s a very complex problem, and then we’ll promptly disagree over the answer. Theologians have been disagreeing about this for centuries, so we are in good company. The fact is there are about as many answers out there as there are faith traditions.

We could call each answer a model of Jesus. Each model makes a starting assumption about the problem the human race faces, and provides an explanation how the “good news” of Jesus helps us solve that otherwise unsolvable problem.

In a sense, the theologians have done exactly what the weather forecast models do. By focusing on a single problem the human race faces, they have reduced a complex multi-faceted problem to one that is more tractable to solve. And in each case, Jesus is viewed as the solution to the problem.

The table below lists several of the most common models of Jesus. It comes from a book called A Generous Orthodoxy, where Brian McLaren shares the story of his own faith journey. In the book, McLaren explains that he was introduced to Jesus as a child, and outside of a brief “rebellious” period in his teen years, he has sought to follow Jesus his whole life. As he progressed on his journey he encountered the various faith traditions outlined below that helped him experience Jesus in new ways. Each tradition introduced him to a new model of Jesus. But McLaren didn’t feel that he had to reject the previous models to embrace the new one. Rather, he used each new model he learned about to get an increasingly more “complete” picture of the real Jesus.

Each new model of Jesus McLaren learned about filled in more and more “missing pieces” if you will, and answered “nagging questions” that remained. And I suspect if you asked McLaren, he would be the first to tell you that the quest to discover the real Jesus will continue for the rest of his life.

Type of Christian (Name of Model)	Focus (Problem)	Good News (Solution)
Conservative Protestant	The human race is guilty of sin and wrongdoing.	Jesus’ death on the cross pays the full penalty for sin
Pentecostal	The human race is held down by disease and poverty.	Jesus teaches us how to receive miracles and healing from God through faith in God’s promises.
Roman Catholic	The human race is enslaved by death.	Jesus’ resurrection defeats death and liberates humanity.
Eastern Orthodox	The human race is spiritually sick and needs healing; it has dropped out of the dance of creation.	Jesus’ entry (or incarnation) into humanity and history brings healing to the human race and all of creation
Liberal Protestant	The human race suffers from ignorance of the teachings and ways of Christ.	Jesus’ example and teachings inspire us to work compassionately for social justice.
Anabaptist	The human race is divided and violent and needs to learn the ways of Christ in community.	Jesus convenes a learning community of disciples who seek to model lives of love and peace.
Liberation Theology (non-violent)	Humanity is oppressed by corrupt powers, systems, and regimes.	Jesus commissions and leads bands of activists to confront unjust regimes and make room for the shalom of God.

Source: This Table is copied from A Generous Orthodoxy, Chapter 1, pp. 64-65.

When described this way, McLaren’s journey of faith sounds analogous to the process of making a weather forecast described previously. By using all these models McLaren gleans a ever-more complete (but never totally complete!) picture of the real Jesus. Likewise, the skilled forecaster is familiar with many models of the atmosphere and consults them all to gain the most complete picture possible of the real atmosphere before making his/her forecast.

What McLaren describes here has been dubbed a generous orthodoxy—hence the book title. It is a humble approach to faith that acknowledges that any human model of Jesus (or God) falls far short of describing the real Jesus (God) and we are best served by learning about and drawing from the strengths of each tradition.

I think we start to go astray when we assume any one model of Jesus is the only acceptable model. Sometimes, in our human arrogance, we come to a place where we think we’ve got God “solved” and we’re no longer open to learning about other models of Jesus. Before too long, we’re worshipping our particular model of God rather than the one, true, and living God. Anyone who doesn’t agree with our model is dismissed (sometimes literally!) as not worthy of consideration. We start calling them all kinds of nasty names—like heretic or some others I won’t repeat.

In my experience, it is a lot easier to demonize a total stranger than it is your friend. When we actually take the time to get to know people from different faith traditions who may think about and experience God in ways that are unfamiliar to us, we might find our experience of God enriched as a result.

Now, having said that, at the end of the day sometimes even good friends disagree; the issue is not so much that we disagree, but how we disagree. Yes, Jesus did pray that we’d be unified, but we’re human beings, not robots. I think it’s unrealistic to assume that Jesus assumed that being unified meant that we would all experience God exactly the same way and or all be together in one combined worship service.

If we are open to it, there is room for a wonderful diversity in the body of Christ. There are certain things that believers will generally agree on but there is a whole lot more that is up for debate. Again, God is more than all the models combined!

Because I respect my friend as a fellow follower of Jesus I am willing to give him/her the benefit of the doubt and assume that, like me, he/she is doing the very best they can as a finite creature to understand an infinite Creator. Even if I don’t share my friend’s perspective, there might be something God wants me to learn from them, so I had better not dismiss their point of view too quickly. And I certainly shouldn’t be presumptuous enough to condemn my friend to a place of eternal, conscious torment just because they disagree with me about whether such a place literally exists—or about any other “litmus test” we could list here that defines orthodox belief.

Lent: Journeying to the "Dark Side" With Jesus

2011-03-10T14:08:00.004-05:00

Lent calls us to journey to the “dark side” with Jesus and contemplate his suffering and death on the cross. Many choose to skip this journey, and focus almost exclusively on resurrection. But if we choose not to follow Jesus to the foot of the cross, how can we possibly grasp the full significance of the empty tomb on Easter Morning?

Lent is a season in our Christian calendar when we focus on the hardship, suffering, and death of Jesus—we might call it that “dark side” of Jesus. During this season, the lectionary scripture readings follow Jesus from the “bright light” of the Mount of Transfiguration as he descends to the “darkness” of cross of Calvary… and in due time… rises again on Easter morning.

Lent is certainly not as upbeat as Advent and Christmas. Most of us would probably rather skip directly from Christmas to Easter Sunday. In fact, many Christians take that quite literally—i.e., they attend church on Christmas and then don’t come back until Easter. There was a time when Lent was the season where new converts to Christianity were prepared for Baptism, but that isn’t so much the case anymore. (We usually do this on Easter or Pentecost Sunday since attendance is higher those weeks.)

In our modern Western individualistic, consumer-driven culture, it seems that entering into the Lenten journey is now seen as optional. (Until fairly recently, you would be hard pressed to find an Ash Wednesday service in most Protestant churches.) If you choose to do the whole sackcloth and ashes thing during Lent, that’s great, but it’s not required. But if we choose not to journey to the “dark side” with Jesus during Lent then I have to wonder just how meaningful his resurrection can possibly be to us?

In general, our modern world is a world of unbelievable personal comfort and convenience and we don’t like to spend too much time thinking about the “dark side” of life. We are apt to “change the subject” quickly and move on to more pleasant conversation. That may explain why churches are often packed to capacity on Easter Sunday, but not very crowded during Lent. It’s not all that difficult to understand really: Resurrection is simply more uplifting than hardship, suffering, and death!

Jesus experienced a bit of this during his ministry. Every time Jesus bought up the idea that the Messiah would have to suffer and die, his disciples really wanted to “change the subject” and talk about something else more pleasant. They certainly didn’t want to believe that their Messiah would have to die! How could he be the liberating king who would lead the Jews to freedom if he ended up getting arrested and killed by the very people who were holding the Jewish people in bondage? They just couldn’t (or wouldn’t?) allow themselves to comprehend that suffering and death were part of the package. Eventually they would learn… but not until well after the resurrection.

My wife and I have also lived this reality. Most know that we gave birth to twin girls in May 2008; Rebecca was healthy but Hope never breathed on her own and passed from life support to life eternal two days after her birth. Naturally the loss of our daughter had a tremendous impact on both of us and we really needed to be able to talk about it. But finding a safe place to do that was hard—at times it seemed all but impossible! It seemed like whenever we would bring up our grief, whether it be with our family or in our church, the subject was quickly changed and it became very clear that we were “expected” to talk about more pleasant things. Like the disciples who didn’t want to hear Jesus talking about his impending suffering and death, our friends and family didn’t seem to want to hear too many of the details of the “dark side” of our life. I’m quite sure that others could share similar experiences as they have lived through seasons of hardship, suffering, and death. I probably have done the same thing when faced with someone else’s grief. The fact is, when our journey takes us to the “darker side” of life it tends to be a lonely road for us to walk.

Lent is a time when we intentionally choose to journey to the “dark side” with Jesus. And I believe that until we stop viewing the “Lenten Journey” as optional—it wasn’t for Jesus and it’s not for us—we will never fully experience the full impact of the resurrection on Easter Sunday.

If we embark on the “Lenten Journey” with Christ from Caesarea–Philippi to Jerusalem that starts in the bright light of the transfiguration, and we stick with him all the way to the foot of the cross on Good Friday, we will inevitably be changed along the way[1]. Something happens to us when we are in the darkness that can happen in no other place. When we voluntarily choose to enter into hardship, suffering, and death—both our own and Jesus’—it forces us to move closer to God. We reach a place where we cannot pierce the darkness on our own. God must illuminate the path ahead and guide our every step. God must remove the obstacles that prevent us from “seeing” and experiencing the intimate relationship we were created to enjoy with our Creator. Only God can purge away those things that separate us from that union.

But of course we would prefer to skip over the darkness. As he did with his first followers, Jesus again and again asks us to stay with him there in the darkness, but at every turn we try and avoid it. The darkness may teach us lessons vitally important to our formation as followers of Christ, but it also tends to bring with pain and suffering, and none of us like that. We all would like to think that we will stick with Jesus no matter what happens, but it’s surprising what happens when we are put under pressure. That’s when the “rubber hits the road” and we see what’s really inside us. And sometimes, to be frank, it’s not pretty.

Consider the earliest followers of Jesus as an example. Judas betrayed Jesus, Peter denied Jesus, and every single one of his followers abandoned him in his darkest hour. But lest we be tempted to point fingers at them—When the darkness descends on our lives aren’t we all capable of betraying, denying, and abandoning Jesus?

As we follow Christ’s Lenten Journey to the end, it passes through dark places like the Upper Room, Gethsemane, and Golgotha. And if we would follow after Jesus, then we too must be willing to go to these kinds of places and stay there for however long is necessary. We must not expend all our energy trying to avoid the shadows, but rather allow them to do their work in our lives. The good news is we don’t have to make these dark journeys by ourselves. In Jesus, we have someone who has already been “there and back again” as it were; God promises to always be “with us” even in the darkest of places; and the Holy Spirit will serve as our guide. I pray that as we embark on the Lenten journey this year, you and I will be willing to go wherever it leads us, and drawn closer to God. I hope our journey opens us up to experience the reality of the risen Lord in our lives like never before.

[1] The “Lenten Journey” I reference is most clearly depicted in Mark’s Gospel—Chapters 8–15. See The Last Week, Chapter 4, pp. 91-107.

Let the Ashes Linger

2011-03-10T13:49:00.003-05:00

A repost from the "archives" but good for Ash Wednesday...

It is a tradition at many churches to mark the beginning of Lent with an Ash Wednesday service. Usually near the end of the service, participants are symbolically marked with the sign of the cross using ashes that are made from the withered palms from the previous year’s Palm Sunday celebration. We are reminded that like those Palm Branches, “We are dust, and to dust we shall return.” We’re asked to confront and contemplate our own mortality and to remember the death of Jesus and what it means to us. That’s not easy for us. I for one hate thinking about my own mortality or that of others. I hate going to funeral homes; they make me feel creepy. I know death is a part of life, but I confess that I am still uneasy in that realm.

St. John of the Cross was a Carmelite monk who lived during the sixteenth century. He was one of the greatest poets of the Spanish Renaissance and a leading authority of Western mysticism. John’s writings focused the soul's journey toward God, and detailed the three stages of spiritual progress: purgation, illumination, and union. John essentially believed that the only way we can “go deeper” in our relationship with God is to first let God “burn away” ignorances and imperfections, habitual, natural, and spiritual, that separate us from God—purgation. Once we begin to remove those impediments to our progress, we can experience illumination and have “eyes to see” clearly who God is and move toward a deeper, more intimate relationship—union—with God.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I would just assume skip purgation, and jump right to illumination and union. Purgation (i.e., burning away) sounds messy and painful. I want to go deeper in my relationship with God; I want to be transformed into a new creation; but I want to do it on my terms; I want to take an easier road that doesn’t require much of me, that doesn’t cost anything, that pretty much lets me stay in control of the process.

I imagine John of the Cross knew we’d be tempted to skip the hard part of the process. He said, “The gate entering into these riches of wisdom [e.g., illumination and union] is the cross, which is narrow, and few desire to enter by it but many desire the delights obtained from entering there.”

Personally, I fear that too often, the cross marked on my forehead on Ash Wednesday only goes skin deep. I quickly forget about it when I wash it off in an hour or two later. But the season of Lent should force us to linger on the cross and particularly, on the death of Christ. We need to remember that without Christ’s death on the cross, there is no resurrection; the two are inseparable. We have a tendency to want to rush to the celebration of Easter—it’s only natural to do this and avoid having to dwell on the unpleasantness of death—but I believe Easter Sunday will be all the more significant to us if we allow ourselves to fully experience the season of Lent, which includes somber services such as those on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. Marcus Borg says it well.

“The Lenten journey, with its climax in Holy Week and Good Friday and Easter, is about participating in the death and resurrection of Jesus. Put somewhat abstractly, this means dying to an old identity—the identity conferred by culture, by tradition, by parents, perhaps—and being born into a new identity—an identity centered in the Spirit of God. It means dying to an old way of being, and being born into a new way of being, a way of being centered once again in God.”

Lent reminds us that there is no easy road to transformation. To experience change that goes more than skin deep, the cross has to be given time to penetrate into the very core of who we are, and that has to begin with purging away all that holds us back. It’s hard to come face-to-face with our mortality, with who we are right now, with all our sins and imperfections—and trust God to enter into that mess and transform it into something beautiful. It seems quite risky to let God have control. It’s hard to admit that we’ve looked to things other than God to define who we are, and to make a conscious choice to detach from those things so that we can connect to God. But we have no choice but to do this if we would have our eyes opened and our hearts illuminated and experience deeper union with God.

We must allow God to burn away everything that blocks us from having a deeper relationship with Him, and there’s no getting around the fact that the process might be difficult and messy. We’ll have to confront the good, the bad, and the ugly in our life, and there may be some pain involved in burning away the bad and the ugly in us. I think ultimately, what makes purgation hard for me, and I suspect for all of us, is to believe that when the process is done there is still something left worth redeeming. But I suppose that is where we must trust the wisdom of John of the Cross who no doubt spoke based on his own experience. God assures us that the flames will not consume the core of who we are, but will rather purge away the impurities so that what is left behind is the truest expression of who we really are—defined by a deeper loving union with our God. And I don’t know about you, but that’s what I long for; to me it’s worth the risk to be set free to become the person that God has created me to be.

So, as you receive the Ashes this year, I pray that you will let them linger and do their transforming work in your life. Don’t rush to “wash them away”; let them penetrate you to your core. Let God burn away all that is in you that is not of God, and open your eyes and illuminate your heart that you may know Him more intimately. Spend time pondering what it meant for Christ to die for us, and what it means to die to yourself during the season of Lent, so that come Easter morning you will experience the significance of the resurrection as you never have before.

· What’s your reaction to the idea of purgation, that God needs to burn away whatever prevents you from knowing him more intimately and that it might be a painful process? Do you avoid going deeper with God because of what it might “cost” you?

· How do you feel when you think about Christ’s death on the cross? Your own death? Why does death make us so uncomfortable? Is it possible to come to a point where death isn’t so scary?

· How does the idea of letting go apply in the context of the Body of Christ? How would things be different in church if we lived out not [our] will but yours be done Lord?

Eyewitnesses to the Extraordinary

2011-03-07T11:06:00.003-05:00

“Peter. … Peter! Wake up Peter! The Master needs us. Time to rise and shine!”

Jolted from deep sleep, I said with a start, “What? Who? John?! What are you… What time is it?”

“What difference does that make, just get up. The Rabbi needs us… now!”

“Spoken like a true morning person. Remember John, some of us can’t just roll out of bed the way you and our Master can.”

“Nonsense, anybody can be a morning person if they want to. Come on, Jesus made it clear last night that he wants to get an early start. We don’t want to be late.”

Like my chipper friend John, our Master Jesus seemed to love the early morning hours. He was up before dawn almost every day, sometimes disappearing from camp for hours, and he had this way of expecting the rest of us to join him more often than I personally liked. John, on the other hand, loved it. Maybe that’s why John would later be known as the one Jesus loved… they had such similar personalities it could be scary sometimes.

I started to get out from under the blankets at this point, shaking off the chill of the early morning, and forcing myself to function at a ridiculously early hour. To John I said, “I’m coming. I’m coming.” All the while I grumbled inwardly. I was definitely not a morning person, but I especially hadn’t slept well after the disturbing conversation the Rabbi and I had yesterday in Caesarea–Philippi.

Yes, Caesarea–Philippi, capital city of Philip’s domain; a region far removed from our home in Capernaum near the Sea of Galilee. There, in the looming shadow of a huge rock formation dotted with current and former shrines to the Gentile gods, and in full view of various other temples and shrines past and present, I had proclaimed Jesus the Messiah. And Jesus commended me for my wisdom and proclaimed me, Peter, The Rock on which he would build his Church. He even went on to say that the very Gates of Hades would not prevail against me. But then, not more than a few minutes later, when I started questioning him about the details, he got very upset with me and said: “Get behind me Satan!” Can you imagine the shock I felt? Talk about emotional whiplash!

“Come on Peter. We have to get going!” John’s call shook me from my remembrances.

“I said I’m coming. What’s going on anyway? Where are we going? And why do we have to start so early?”

“I don’t know much more than you do. Just that he wants us ready now.”

“And of course you were more than willing, as always, to be the Rabbi’s messenger.” As John and I walked over to where Jesus was, I couldn’t help but notice that only one other person was standing with him—John’s brother James, the other half of the Sons of Thunder.

“I can’t help it if the Rabbi and I connect in ways that you don’t,” John continued. “Sometimes you just need to think before you speak. Like last night… what were you thinking rebuking the Master that way. I’m glad he set you straight.”

“Oh you just ate that up didn’t you, John! No doubt you took good notes to document my public humiliation. You know very well that I just vocalized what the rest of you were thinking but didn’t have the courage to say.”

At this point we made it over to the others. James looked up from where he was getting his gear together. “Are you two at it again?! I heard you a mile away. Can’t you all go five minutes without squabbling?”

“Top of the morning to you too James. I see you woke up in a lovely mood as always.”

“I’m impressed Peter. You’re upright and dressed before the Sun is up.”

“Look James, don’t you start too.”

“Gentlemen. Can we please not disturb the peacefulness of the morning with all this bickering?” At this point Jesus who had been kneeling tending the fire spoke up. “Are we all ready to go?” He stood up and offered me some bread and fish. “A little early for you I know Peter, but you’d better eat something as we have a long journey ahead of us today.”

“What about the others? Aren’t they coming?”

“Actually, no,” Jesus said glancing over where the other nine disciples were camped out. “They aren’t coming with us today. This journey is just for the four of us.”

As I stood there nibbling on a meager breakfast and still trying to wake up, I looked over my shoulder enviously at the nine that were still sleeping peacefully and halfway wished I was still with them. On the other hand, the Rabbi seemed to have formed a special bond with James, John, and myself, and I kind of liked that. This wasn’t the first time Jesus has taken just the three of us with him on a journey. “So, where are we going today?” I asked, stifling a yawn.

“Mountain climbing,” Jesus replied and motioning toward Mount Hermon looming in the distance, barely visible in the dim light of morning, whose summit was shrouded in fog.

“Come again?!” I said, almost choking on my water and fish. I sometimes glimpsed Hermon’s majestic peaks from afar on clear days while doing my work as a fisherman on the Sea of Galilee. I never dreamed I would get a chance to see them up close.

“You heard me right. I figured after the past week, we might enjoy a little time away for recreation and reflection.”

Well, that was an understatement; it had been quite a week for me—a physically demanding journey far away from our home to a totally foreign place that culminated in an emotional confrontation that called into question everything I thought I knew about my Master and our mission. So many questions raced through my mind as we set out for Mount Hermon that morning. Everything I thought I knew about who I was and who Jesus was seemed to be up for grabs. I hoped this trip up the mountain might help me gain some clarity.

***** ***** *****

Mountain climbing was certainly a new experience for all of us. Galilean fishermen aren’t noted for their mountaineering skills, though wouldn’t you know Jesus seemed a natural. I always enjoyed new challenges, though, especially physical ones. I had to admit it was a lot of fun. Even John, who was clearly not as much an outdoorsmen as I was, seemed to have a good time—though he still found time to journal at night. I shudder to think about what he might be recording about me.

The climb was pretty strenuous in places, however, and it seemed harder to breathe than it was at sea level where we had spent most of our lives. We put in long days and were exhausted come evening. All the rigorous physical activity was a good release and helped me to forget about all that had happened for a time; but after dark, when things got quiet around the campsite, my thoughts were inexorably drawn back to our exchange in Caesarea–Philippi and all the confusing questions that it had stirred up within me. I so much wanted a chance to talk to the Rabbi about what had happened, but it seemed like every time I tried, either I couldn't find the words or James or John would get talking to Jesus about some seemingly trivial matter.

It wasn’t until well into our expedition that I finally got my chance. We were camped out somewhere a good ways up the mountain. James and John were already sacked out for the evening and Jesus and I were sitting at the campfire as the embers began to fade. It was definitely chilly at this higher altitude. At certain times of year, the higher slopes of Hermon are covered with snow, but tonight’s weather was clear and crisp. The stars shown brightly above and the moon was full, basking the landscape in silvery luminescence.

“You’ve been wanting to say something to me, this whole trip, haven’t you Peter?”

Good grief. I hate it when he does that! I’d been trying to find a way to start this conversation for days, and he beats me to the punch. I should be used to it by now I guess. The Rabbi just had this way about him of knowing exactly what you were thinking at any given moment.

“Come on,” said Jesus, “You usually don’t hesitate to speak and I like that about you. Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

Glancing over, I confirmed that John and James were indeed fast asleep. I wanted this conversation to be off the meticulous official record that John kept for us. Seeing the telltale rise-and-fall of John’s snoring I felt more at ease to speak. “It’s just that, for once, I’m… I’m not sure what to say. I mean… it’s all a bit confusing.”

“You’re talking about what happened down in Caesarea–Philippi aren’t you?”

“Of course I am! Master, that whole day has a surreal quality to me. It was kind of like a dream that turned into a nightmare. I felt like I was exalted one minute and then humiliated the next. It just felt like you used me to teach a lesson… I… I have so many questions.” I picked up a stick and fiddled around trying to stoke the flickering flames. I couldn’t really bring myself to look at him directly.

Jesus did not rush to try and defend himself. He simply did what he always did when one of his students talked to him—he listened to us as if we were the most important person in the world. I knew it was safe to continue to speak frankly with my teacher and friend. “I’m just confused, Rabbi! I mean… I’ve wracked my brain over this the past week. If I was right the other day and you really are the Messiah—the liberating king we’ve been expecting for centuries—then I can’t reconcile how your death can be part of the plan? How can you liberate us if you yourself are killed? It just doesn’t make sense to me! I know you got upset when I questioned you, and I’m sorry for being so disrespectful to you in public, but I just don’t get it.”

“Peter you get it more than you realize, and more than most of the others. That’s why I chose you to come on this journey. You weren’t wrong about who I am and I wasn’t confused or conflicted when I named you The Rock.”

I was confused and agitated. “Then why did you call me Satan the other day?! I mean I have to tell you, that hurt. How can I be The Rock and Satan at the same time?”

“I know what I said sounded harsh, and I don’t like hurting your feelings. But I also knew that you have inner strength of character to get past your surface feelings and hear what I’m really saying to you. You see Peter, just as rocks grow stronger with time, God is still molding you, and there are some imperfections that need to be removed before you can fulfill your destiny. Right now you are still soft and pliable like the stone in those caves down below through which the waters flow. But just as rocks grow stronger when they are exposed to heat, the forge of life will strengthen you. In time you will be as strong as the bedrock that holds up this very mountain. Then, my words will be proven true—not even the Gates of Hades will prevail against you.”

I was still having trouble taking all this in, and Jesus could tell. He stood up and grabbed me by the shoulders looking me directly in the eyes. “Peter, you have such potential within you; I’ve seen it since the day I called you from your fishing nets along the Sea of Galilee to follow me and become a fisher of men. But you struggle to believe in me and in what God can do through you. You are still young, rash, and impulsive and you’ve got a lot of pre-conceived notions of who the Messiah should be that need to be purged before you’ll be able to see me as I really am. For now, all I’m asking of you is to be open to seeing things in a new way. Let me lead you where you need to go even if it’s not where you want to go. Don’t be afraid if the territory is different from what you’re used to; remember, I’m always with you on the journey. You’ve only seen glimpses of the Kingdom so far; you still have much to learn before you’re ready. Don’t rush to claim your glory; don’t try to force things. Walk in step with me and with God. Don’t grow impatient and try and take control and assume you know the story should end. Trust me, you can't imagine how this story ends. It’s beyond your wildest dreams.”

As I looked into Jesus’ eyes, those eyes that seemed like they pierced your very soul, I felt a sense of peace. I was still confused, but on a deeper level, I was feeling better. “Master, I’m glad you have such faith in me and I hope I will not disappoint you. It’s just so hard to understand all of this… I just wish I could get some sort of clarity about how all of this was going to play out…”

“It’s late, Peter, we should get some sleep. Maybe things will seem clearer by morning.”

As was typical when you talked with the Rabbi, our conversation ended as abruptly as it started, and I was left to ponder what Jesus said to me as I drifted off to sleep bathed in the light of the full moon above.

***** ***** *****

“Peter! Peter! Wake up! You definitely want to see this.”

Roused from sleep yet again I exclaimed, “Oh!! Not again! John... Will you please let me sleep a little longer for once?!”

“Peter! He’s right. I think you do need to see this.” Wait, James was standing there looming above me too? Experience tells me that while one could ignore one of the Sons of Thunder, it was almost impossible, and usually unwise, to ignore them both. As I rubbed the sleep from my eyes I found myself shielding from what seemed like noonday brightness. Gosh, had I slept that long?

And that’s when I saw what they both were talking about. There, not more than a hundred feet away was Jesus standing and conversing with two other people. I wasn’t sure who I was looking at, but John knew and he whispered to me. “The one with the long beard is Moses… and if I’m not mistaken the other wiry looking fellow is Elijah the Prophet.”

I rubbed my eyes to make sure I was seeing clearly. I even pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming but I was seeing all this with my waking eyes. As the three of us stood there dumbfounded, we all saw Jesus in a way we had never seen him before; it was as if he changed before our eyes. It became clear that the source of the bright light was not the Sun but Jesus himself. Bright light was pouring from his face and illuminating the entire area around us. The very clothes he wore became pure white.

I started to say something, but John cuffed my mouth. “Peter! Just be quiet for once and listen. I want to hear what they are saying.” He was sitting there, scroll and stylus in hand. Good grief! Did he sleep with that thing?! But even I had to admit it might be good to document this event, and John was nothing if not thorough.

We couldn’t hear everything that was said but heard enough to know that they were conversing about some major event that was going to take place in Jerusalem and Jesus was going to be involved. We heard them use the word exodus to describe it—which means departure. So Jesus was getting ready to depart some time soon? Where was he going…? Then, in an instant my mind flashed back to our conversations down at Caesarea–Philippi and then last night. I began to connect the dots and I was overwhelmed with emotion.

I couldn’t contain myself any longer; James and John tried to restrain me but there was no doing that at this point. I ran over to where the three men were. "Master, this is a great moment! I think I see what you meant now… well… kind of. What would you think if I built three memorials here on the mountain—one for you, one for Moses, one for Elijah?"

Just then a cloud of light enveloped all of us and it was as if the very essence of who God is that traveled was with our people all throughout history rested upon us in that moment. And if that wasn’t enough, we heard a voice speak from within the cloud saying, "This is my Son, marked by my love, focus of my delight. Listen to him."

You can imagine in that moment we are all terrified. (It’s funny how when God shows up, we mortals are often scared to death.) I hadn’t realized it, but the voice had startled me so much that I buried my face in the ground. But Jesus took me by the hand, helped me to my feet, and said, “Don’t be afraid Peter.” When I looked up, the other two men were gone and only Jesus was standing before me. His face still glowed with an otherworldly quality.

He hugged me close, and as he did he whispered in my ear, “Now, my friend, you have a glimpse of how the Story ends. But trust me, there’s much more that you need to see before you know the whole story.” He didn’t say anything more. He walked over to where James and John were huddled on the ground and said something to each of them no doubt assuaging their fears as well.

***** ***** *****

As we walked down off Mount Hermon together, we were all fairly quiet and introspective. Jesus told us, “There will come a time for you to proclaim to the whole world what you saw here today, but for now let’s keep it between us. You’ll know when the time is right.” We each pondered in our hearts what that night had meant to us and tried to make sense of what Jesus was telling us. I don’t think any of us fully understood the significance of what had happened until much later, after Jesus was raised from the dead—in a sense the end of the Story Jesus spoke of, but in another, just the beginning.

I for one still don't know quite what happened near the summit of Hermon that night. I would guess that the three of us would each describe the details of that night differently but I think we all agree that we were eyewitnesses to something extraordinary. In that moment heaven touched earth. I truly believe I saw Moses and Elijah with my own eyes, and I definitely saw Jesus in a new way up on that mountain. For the first time I knew beyond knowing that Jesus was in fact the Messiah—the Son of God. I had answered Jesus correctly down in the city, but before I answered with my head, and now I could answer with both my head and my heart. At the time, I don’t think I fully grasped how important that night was for our future. Looking back, however, it was a real turning point for us. From that day forward, we began to see Jesus for who he really was, rather than who we wanted him to be.

In time I came to realize that Jesus was indeed our liberating king, but he wouldn’t set us free by leading a military uprising against the Romans. Instead he would set us free by becoming a suffering servant for all of us—Jews and Gentiles alike. We began to realize that, like Jesus, we would have to endure suffering and hardship for the sake of our faith. It became clear to us in retrospect that Jesus’ call to take up our cross and follow him was meant to be more than just another political slogan; it needed to become a daily reality for those of us who followed Him. We realized that we cannot truly stand upon the mountain of God until we pass through the valley with Jesus.

After our journey to the mountain we would return to the other nine disciples and head back home to Galilee to continue our ministry. Soon enough we were immersed in healing the sick, feeding the hungry, seeking justice for the oppressed and poor, and so forth. The demands of our daily life were as hard as ever and I certainly had moments where I was reminded that I was still a work in progress—where I felt more like Satan than I did The Rock. We returned home to even more religious and political upheaval over our ministry that would eventually lead to our Master’s arrest and crucifixion by the Romans. But through it all, we had a renewed sense of purpose that sustained us and kept us going forward. We knew we were walking in the footsteps of our teacher and friend—Jesus—and that we each had an important role to play right now. I was committed to stick with Jesus to the end and to do all I could to embrace the essence of who God had made me to be. Though God was still shaping me every day, I was indeed The Rock just as Jesus had said, and along with the other disciples, I would help to spread the Gospel to Jerusalem, to Samaria, and to the ends of the Earth.