"The Waiting is the Hardest Part"

These words come from “Gospel” of Tom Petty: J

The waiting is the hardest part.

Every day you get one more yard.

You take it on faith; you take it to the heart;

The waiting is the hardest part.

Tom definitely wasn’t writing his songs for use in church—far from it.  Nevertheless, sometimes their simple lyrics “preach” to me. 

Sometimes, “secular” music stumbles upon Sacred truth.

Waiting can indeed be hard. These days between Easter and Pentecost are a time of waiting for the Church. We all celebrated the miracle of resurrection a few weeks ago and the church was packed. But now, the miracle has given way to the mundane—and we find it hard to sustain our belief.  We begin to question if it was “really Jesus?”  Come back a few Sundays after Easter, and most churches aren’t as full.  Many people seem to have quickly returned to “normal”—which, for increasing numbers in our world, doesn’t include regular Sunday worship.

Scripture reports that Jesus’ first followers had several encounters with him after the resurrection. During one of these meetings, he told them explicitly to wait in Jerusalem until he returns—Acts 1:4-5.   You would think that this would be easy enough for them.  After all, they had just seen their friend and teacher—who was executed on a Roman cross—standing in their midst, talking to them—even eating meals with them.  It seemed impossible to believe, but Jesus was alive!  They had seen him with their own eyes!  They touched the nail-scarred hands.  If anyone ought to be able to wait on Jesus for a few days, it should be them.  

But even when we see Jesus “face-to-face,” human nature is hard to overcome. 

When Jesus doesn’t show after a few days, the disciples start getting impatient.  They hate waiting—just like you and I hate waiting.  They want to do something.  So, they decide to “move on” from Jerusalem and return to life as they knew it before they met Jesus. 

Jesus finds a group of them fishing along the Sea of Galilee, doing what they were doing when Jesus first called them three years earlier—John 21.  He finds two others walking on a road toward Emmaus with their hopes and dreams shattered. These two apparently missed the news of the resurrection entirely and are “headed home” to try and pick up the pieces of their old lives and start over—Luke 24:13-35.

We can certainly relate to those early believers.  It’s hard to wait!  We live in an “on the next [1]” culture.  We want instant gratification, and if we don’t get it, we move on.  We have little tolerance for the wisdom of the Psalmist:  Be still… have hope… and wait for the Lord—Psalm 27:14. 

If Jesus doesn’t show up the second we need him, immediately and obviously, we tend to assume that he’s not here—and that he’s not coming.

But as the saying goes, “Good things come to those who wait.”

Whether living “ordinary” life—e.g., sitting in beltway traffic or balancing family responsibilities—or seeking “deeper truths” about our identity, God seems to have hard-wired waiting into the fabric of human existence. Like it or not, there are some things in life that can only be gained as we wait.

Strength for our journey is found as we wait on God. Being still, having hope, and other things we do to create space for God in our lives can seem counterintuitive. But through these counter-cultural practices, we encounter Jesus, the Risen Lord, who promises to defend us from our enemies, comfort us when we suffer, and lift us up to sustain us on our journey.

As we step off life's treadmill, as we wait for The Lord, we begin to "see" differently. No, the world has not changed, but we have...

We do not wait for the Lord so that we can escape the world and its problems, but rather so we can engage the world head-on with God's love and justice.  As we go forth to love and serve God, our friends—and even our enemies—as Jesus did, God's glory shines in us and through us.

As we walk with our Risen Lord, God's power and love pours out like rain on our parched souls and flows to the world through us—through our bodies and through the Body of Christ. As we wait, we are changed; we can never go back to the way things were.  Once we encounter Jesus, we are never the same again...

Lord Jesus, teach us to be a people who wait well. Help us to trust the Spirit's unseen work in our lives—that often happens while we wait for The Lord. As we wait, we ask you to open our eyes to let us see all of the places your Presence is "with us" in our daily lives. May seeing you high and lifted up in our world inspire us to live life to the full and become all we have been created to be. To the glory of your name. AMEN.

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[1]  Those familiar with the Sci-Fi channel’s show, “Ghost Hunters,” may recognize this phrase.  Jason Hawes typically says it at the end of each investigation.  I used it here to describe our culture’s chronically short attention span.

"Short Prayers" Alone Won't Cut It

From my journal:  April 9., 2013—It’s another morning in the life of the Ward family.  A busy day in the midst of a busy midst of a busy week, in the midst of a busy month, in the midst of a busy life! 

Laurie has an early meeting today, so everyone had to be up and moving early. Since Laurie had to leave early, I dropped the kids off at school and daycare. The car is scheduled for service later this morning.  

I have about an hour, so I search out the ubiquitous Golden Arches. Granted the “food” is greasy, but it's tasty and, most of all, QUICK! As I sit here, I feel led to pull out my phone and journal—writing down my prayers to God. As I sit and consume food for my body, I also nourish my spirit…

Busyness seems like a "way of life" for me these days. For a family of four trying to juggle two careers, ministry activities, two young kids, and all the normal tasks and trials of daily life together, we are virtually always on the go—and often tired as a result.  It's rare to find a "quiet moment" unless we intentionally plan it.  (We have to schedule it, just like everything else we do.)  For someone who by nature is an introvert, and seemingly can’t get enough “me-time,” this can be a challenge.  

Can man live on "fast food" alone?

I do the best I can to find “balance” in the midst of our busyness, but it is not always easy. Our family eats out frequently—probably too often. I have to confess that this wasn't my first visit to McDonalds this week. In fact, we typically consume "fast food" more than once a week. I say that we do it because we must, and although we can and do debate that fact in our family, there is no denying that “fast food” is a reality in our very modern, über-busy world!  Big Macs, Chicken McNuggets, and countless other “edible items,” have come to fill a needed niche for an “on-the-go” society. 

“Fast food” is okay in moderation.  It can nourish and sustain a human being for a while.  It’s when we try to live on it almost exclusively on it that we run into problems. We put on weight, feel lethargic, and/or have other health issues resulting from consuming too much concentrated sugar, salt, and fatty grease.

I believe something similar can happen in our spiritual life if we aren’t careful. About halfway through my McGriddles meal today, it hit me that I have not had much quality time with God recently.  Hardly a blinding revelation, I suppose, given the pace of life I have just described.  But sometimes we get so caught up in getting through each day, that we can become oblivious to what ought to be obvious.

Now don't get me wrong; I talk to God all the time. I have learned that I don't have to be in a particular place or posture to pray. I can and do practice the Presence of God often, “chatting” with God about what I sense God is doing through me—or despite me—in a given situation. This is a very helpful practice to know about and use given the ever-present reality of a “too busy” life.

On the other hand, much like a diet that is too heavy on “fast food,” trying build and maintain a relationship based almost exclusively on “quick conversations” with God probably isn’t best for my long-term spiritual health.

Short little prayers aren't going to cut it anymore.—Staci Eldredge

My experience suggests that Staci’s quote above is right on target. She and her husband John were in a very "intense" time in their life and ministry when she uttered those words. I am quite sure it would have been easier for her to say: "I'm okay. I'll get by with ‘quick prayers’ until things calm down." Who would fault her if she felt that way?  We might not always say it out loud, but isn’t this what we all tend to do when we're “too busy” living life?  God gets put on the proverbial “back burner” as we scurry around doing the best we can to get through each day.

What I think Staci realized, however, was that making time for more extended times with God on a regular basis is vital to a thriving spiritual life.  It’s not really optional and—though it might seem counterintuitive—that’s especially true when it feels like we're "too busy" for it.

Staci knew all too well that when we make an intentional effort to set aside time for extended conversation with God, we are able to “go deeper with God” and get to know each other on a deeper level than is possible with “short prayers” alone.

Here is an analogy that might be helpful.  In today’s world, friendships can certainly be born on-line or through social media like Facebook or Twitter.  My marriage is a living testament to that[1]!  That said, my Facebook friends tend to be people with whom I have an existing relationship, and I use Facebook to maintain our connection during the times we can’t see each other face-to-face.

We might view “practicing the Presence of God” as the spiritual equivalent of posting a Facebook status update.  This spiritual practice tends to be most effective for maintaining an already well-established relationship with God.

Sometimes—like this morning—when I am busy, I feel a little guilty spending some time with God—writing the words that became this article.  Inevitably, I am aware that there are at least three or four other things I ought to be doing with this time.  Spending time with God sometimes seems like just another item on a “to do” list that already seems too long! Stopping for a few minutes to pray, meditate, or journal seems somehow wrong.  After all there's all this "other stuff" that needs doing.  How can I justify sitting in McDonalds for almost an hour, jotting words on my i-Phone, “talking” to someone I can’t even see?

But then I wonder if this is precisely “the Enemy’s” game?  However you conceive of that “entity” which opposes God’s will being done in this world, I think we can all agree that it would be threatened by—and actively oppose—our efforts to grow closer to God.  It would make sense, then, that this “Enemy” would want us to doubt the validity and value of the time we spend with God, and would throw up “barriers” that make it harder for us to connect with God—using whatever means necessary.  As we become more aware of that spiritual reality, we may have a different lens with which to interpret certain circumstances that seem to impede our relationship with God—i.e., it may not always be “random stuff” that happens to us. 

While I emphatically don’t mean we should blame “the Devil” for every bad thing that happens in our lives[2], I do think we should take the existence of evil more seriously than we sometimes do.  We should be aware that as we seek to progress in our walk with God, we will have to intentionally choose to “go deeper.”  Growth won’t just happen; we’ll have to work at it—and our efforts might well be opposed.

Whenever I sense the Spirit’s impulse in my life, I try to pay attention and respond—as opposed to “pushing it down” and going about my day.  God sometimes uses this prompting to show me exactly what I need to be doing in this moment.

These Spirit impulses can function like a warning light on the “dashboard” of my life—telling me I've been living on "spiritual fast food" for too long.  At the risk of sounding cliché, in these moments: "I'm too busy NOT to pray."  It may not always seem like the “logical” choice for how to spend my time right now, but when it comes to walking with God, logic only takes you so far.  At some point, you step out in faith and simply obey God’s voice.  Sometimes, I just need to be intentional to create more space for God—and trust that all of the other activities on my “to do” list will find proper balance in due course. 

If I am in relationship with God, in frequent contact with Jesus, and in step with the Spirit, then I will be a person who is able to do what needs doing when it needs to get done.  That is the essence of a spiritually disciplined life.  

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[1] I would argue that, even in the cases of relationship that begin on-line or via social media, in order for the relationship to flourish, the “friends” eventually need to meet in person.  Such was the case for Laurie and me.  After getting to know each other on-line, we met face-to-face, and our relationship progressed from there.

[2] For example, we lost our infant daughter about five years ago.  I don’t view that as a punishment by “the Enemy,” but I do acknowledge the existence of a coherent force in our lives that seeks to oppose God’s goodness and could use a tragedy or other life circumstance to get our focus away from God.  

The Holy Storm

It snowed this week in Maryland—March 25.  Snow doesn’t happen very often in late March where I live.

But every now and again, if the timing and intensity of precipitation is just right, you wake up, look out your window and say:  Holy Monday Batman!  J It’s snowing!  The snow started falling overnight, and even the roads were coated first thing this morning—creating travel difficulties. 

Snow in March—and even April!—is certainly not without precedent here in Maryland. We may remember this snowfall a year from now, but probably not.   Some people, who keep records about this sort of thing, will probably remind us about it the next time a storm happens late in the season.  But, overall, I doubt the memory of today’s snow will last.

This is Holy Week—when followers of Christ remember a series of events from the life of Jesus that had much more lasting impact than a March snowstorm!

From the moment Jesus and his band of followers enter Jerusalem on what we know as Palm Sunday, the atmosphere was primed for a “storm.”  The city was packed for Passover.  Rome allowed the Jewish people to practice their “quaint religion” but always kept a close eye on them through the Jewish leaders—who owed their continued “comfortable existence” to Rome.  The Roman governor of Jerusalem worried about the Jewish people getting out of hand during their festivals, and stood ready to crack down if necessary.  The Pax Romana must be kept at all costs!  (Ironic, isn’t it, how much the “peace of Rome” depends on the looming threat of using overwhelming violence to maintain it?)

In that day, Caesar was Lord; no one opposed the emperor without severe and violent consequences.  The cross was an instrument of terror that stood as a grim reminder of what happened when you dared to cross Rome, and thus it helped to enforce Rome’s absolute rule.  For the most part, the average person didn’t question Roman reality—it’s just how things were. Your life went smoother—and you tended to live longer—if you didn’t ask many questions and went along with the old saying: “When in [the Roman Empire] do as the Romans do.”  All that changed when Jesus came along.

When Jesus went to Jerusalem—the ancestral home of Israel’s greatest kings—he specifically went there to openly proclaim a God’s reality.  A new “kingdom,” was present and available now through Jesus.  It would be the fulfillment of all David’s Kingdom was meant to be—and then some.  In essence by his actions Jesus proclaims: 

No, Caesar is not Lord; I AM!

Jesus demonstrated God’s reality through the life he lived up to this point, by what he did during that Last Week, and ultimately by the death he died—and the “death” he defied. 

As he approached Jerusalem, Jesus knew God had called him to this; all that had transpired to this point prepared him for what was about to happen.  Jesus was fully human and struggled at times with accepting his destiny, but he was also fully divine and, in the end, he knew he could not waiver, no matter what opposition he encountered.   Too much was at stake for humanity.  He had to see this mission through to the end.  It was time for his solidarity with humanity to become complete—it was time for Jesus to die.

Like a team of meteorologists tracking a snowstorm, Jesus “forecasted” the future for his followers.  On several occasions, he tried to warn them about the approaching “storm”, but they largely ignored the warning and were caught flat-footed when it hit.  And the “storm” hit them hard!   They would eventually recover and rally to their risen leader’s cause, but that comes later.  Right now, the storm rages, the darkness rises.

Like a March snowstorm, what happened during Holy Week was a rare confluence of human events. Political and religious leaders in Jerusalem really didn’t trust each other, but as the old adage goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.  They came together behind what they perceived as a common threat and were determined to find a way to eliminate Jesus. 

And on Good Friday, it seems like they have succeeded.  It looks like darkness and evil have defeated the light.  Roman reality once again reigns as the supreme reality.

But, as our lives can no doubt witness, sometimes the darkest night proceeds the brightest dawn.  We usually only recognize it with the benefit of hindsight.  On Friday evening, death seems to have the final word and all hope seems lost.   Unbeknownst to us, however, things are happening in God’s reality.   Important things.  No one knows exactly what happened on Holy Saturday, but most theologians agree it is a crucial part of the story. 

The mystery and silence of Holy Saturday set the stage for the joy and celebration of Easter Sunday. 

On Easter, an event happens that makes a March snowstorm look like an event as commonplace as the setting Sun.  Jesus becomes the first—and only—one for whom death, even a brutal death at the hands of Rome, does not have the final say. 

The resurrection proclaims once and for all that God’s reality as the most powerful reality that was, is, and ever will be, and proves unequivocally that Roman reality at its worst cannot overcome God’s reality at its best. 

Because that event happened, all other events before, during, and since are bathed in new light and “seen” in new ways.  Even the darkest situations are not beyond hope of restoration.  Death is no longer the end—it is a new beginning.  And that reality makes this present life all the more important to live to the full! 

Indeed the world was changed because the death and resurrection of Jesus happened.   This week, we remember:

• ·      the “Hosannas!” that welcome Jesus to Jerusalem;
• ·      the unbridled passion and anger he shows in the Temple;
• ·      the agonizing prayers in the Garden of Gethsemane and the disciples lack of focus;
• ·      the arrest, “trial”, mocking, and beating at the hands of the Jewish leaders and Romans;
• ·      the betrayal, denial, and abandonment by all of his closest followers in his darkest hour; and
• ·      the horrific death upon the Roman cross and burial in a “borrowed” tomb.

As the week progresses, and the shadows lengthen, we spiral down into despair and death.  When we go to bed on Good Friday the world seems drained of all its color and all hope seems lost.  We had hoped Jesus was the Messiah; we hitched our wagon to him and followed him.  Now what?!!  On Saturday, we are quiet and reflective, trying to figure out what comes next.  But then comes that wonderful moment when we go to visit the tomb early on Sunday and find it empty.  Seized by fear, we can’t believe our eyes!

At first we are still stuck in Roman reality, and we think the most obvious answer is impossible, but eventually the brightness of God’s reality dawns in our hearts.  We realize that even after the worst the humanity can serve up—God’s reality still reigns supreme.  Jesus has risen, just as he said he would, and is going ahead of us to the Galilee.  It is our job to run after him, proclaiming to everyone we meet along the way:

Christ is risen!  Christ is risen indeed!

Ash Wednesday: Fully Human...

Our theology says: Jesus was fully human and fully divine.  

What exactly does that mean??

Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.

I think we at least partially understand that to say Jesus was “fully divine,” means that Jesus was God revealed in human flesh.  We could write volumes on the divinity of Jesus, but Ash Wednesday is the gateway to the season of Lent in our liturgical year, and a time when Christians have traditionally focused on our own humanity—and our mortality. 

The tradition in many churches is to place ashes on the forehead of each worshipper and for the pastor to say: Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.  It reminds us, in case we forget, of our human limitations but it also promises that God can take our dust, transform it, and use it to his glory—2 Corinthians 4.

Pardon my dust, excuse the mess

we're making somethin' new out of all of this

I'm saying my prayers, and I'm trying to change

so give me some time, 'cause I'm still finding my way

—Pardon My Dust, Chris Rice

Ash Wednesday is also an opportunity to center our focus on the humanity of Jesus.  The stretch of liturgical calendar between Christmas and Easter lifts up the Earthly life of Jesus of Nazareth—his birth, ministry, death, and resurrection.

On Christmas, we remember that Jesus was born just like each one of us.   In fact, the circumstances surrounding his birth were far from ideal.  He was born to young parents and had to flee to escape infanticide imposed by Herod, and lives as a refugee in Egypt for quite a while.  This difficult childhood experience helps Jesus to empathize with marginalized people everywhere, and those who suffer under unjust rulers. 

Jesus grows up with family and friends, just like you and me.  Scripture doesn’t tell us too much about that time.  We’re left to imagine how it might have been.  From Luke’s account, we’re told that Mary senses from the beginning that Jesus is special, but I don’t think she fully understands who Jesus is.  I imagine, like any mom, she tries to shelter her son for as long as possible from his “destiny.”  She wants him be just another Jewish boy in Nazareth. And I like to think of Jesus as an ordinary kid—albeit he probably has a strange sense of “something more” that surfaces as he comes of age. During these hidden years, Jesus undoubtedly goes through many of the same things that every child and youth experiences, and in so doing he learns more about what it is to be a human being. 

When Mark (probably the earliest Gospel) begins his story of Jesus, the author doesn’t begin with the birth.  He simply assumes Jesus is…   (His readers would have taken this for granted perhaps?) When we meet Jesus in Mark, the action is already ongoing!  The hour is late… and the Kingdom of God is at hand.  Jesus is a man on a mission, coming to John the Baptist for baptism, and calling on some select individuals to follow him.  This band of men travel all over the Galilee teaching, helping, and healing, and modeling a new way of living that runs counter to what the world considers “normal.”  But there’s something about this way of life that get’s people’s attention.  Some people love it (often the poor)… others (often the powerful) hate it.

Yes, the disciples learn from Jesus as they travel; but is it possible that Jesus also learns from them? Don’t these years on Earth, walking “in our shoes,” teach him profound lessons about what it mans to be human that he could not have learned if he remained separate from us?

On several occasions, Jesus takes the disciples further away from home than they have ever been—out of their comfort zone perhaps.  On one of those “road trips,” Jesus takes his closest friends (Peter, James, and John) on a special journey, and they are permitted a glimpse of the “fully divine” Jesus that no one else gets to see.   They have what we might call a “mountaintop experience,” where they see Jesus in a new light, lifted high above all other great men that have come before—e.g., Moses and Elijah. 

But the Transfiguration experience seems to be the exception not the rule. Especially in Mark’s Gospel, for most of their time together, the disciples experience a Jesus who seems much more human than divine[1].

After the Transfiguration, it’s back to business as usual—again, especially evident in Mark’s telling of the story.  If anything, the path gets more difficult for Jesus and his followers from this point forward, as they walk the way toward Jerusalem—the way that will take them from the heights of divine glory and inspiration on the Mount of Transfiguration to the depths of human depravity and despair at Calvary.  Jesus knows the path he is walking and he tries to get his followers to understand—but it is just as difficult for them as it is for us today. 

Jesus knows this is why he has come. In order to become “fully human” he must experience everything that we experience—and that includes suffering and death. 

Despite his friends objections,  Jesus—the “fully divine”—must now allow himself to be stripped of everything so that he can at last be “fully human”—and in doing so he opens up the way for you and I to become fully alive as human beings.

And that I believe is the essence of Ash Wednesday and Lent.  The ashes on our forehead can be a public symbol of our solidarity with Jesus.  (So, don’t be too quick to wash them off!! J) They symbolize our desire to, once again, strip away all that impedes us from being “more divine,” and to be set free to become the fully alive human being that God created us to be. 

Blessings to one and all as we begin the 2013 Lenten Journey.

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[1] John’s Gospel presents Jesus as being much more “in control” and conscious of his “full divinity” from the very beginning. Mark’s Jesus is not unaware of his divinity, but seems much more reluctant to “go public” with his identity—almost as if he is trying to keep it a secret until the time is right.