Christians should party a lot more. Feast days and celebration were established by God in the Old Testament as monuments and reminders of God's provision and character. God is the central focus of each one, surprising us time and again with the way his touch transforms the potential of a human life. We celebrate those moments throughout human history as a reminder that faith is not blind. It is built on the testimony of history and gives us a real, living hope for today. That is certainly the case with Saint Patrick.
The story of Saint Patrick is not about snakes and shamrocks. Those were all added centuries later. Instead, his life is a reminder that God's wisdom is more powerful than our own. That God's strategies are better than our own. It is the story of God touching a sinful youth and proving that the outreach strategy expressed by the Apostle Paul is more effective, dynamic, and exciting than any we would seek to replace it with. It is also more costly, but the return for that cost is a fierce and powerful love.
Patrick was an Englishman whose life spanned the fourth and fifth century. By his own admission he was a godless youth whose life originally disqualified him for missionary service. At age sixteen he was captured by Irish pirates and sold into slavery in Ireland. An older slave shared the gospel with him, and Patrick gave his life to God.
We talk so loosely about giving our lives to God. Most often we really mean that we want God to bless our lives while we continue to pursue our desires and dreams. Patrick was a slave. His dreams were gone. He had a meager life to give God, but God had a bigger life, His life, to give Patrick. The first lesson of Christ. He isn't interested in fair exchanges. Our life is precious to us, but it doesn't compare with what God has in store for us.
Patrick tells us that God sent an angel to him that lead him out of captivity. Once he found freedom, he decided to give himself to the priesthood. Once again the angel came to him and pointed him back to Ireland, to serve those who had enslaved him. We don't know what went through Patrick's mind when the call came, but he had given his
life to God, and he allowed God to direct him.
Patrick wasn't the first missionary to Ireland, but he was the first effective one. Former missionaries had brought their culture with them. They believed that people had to be civilized, be Romanized, in order to be saved. Patrick believed he had to become Irish to reach the Irish. Irish art and customs were incorporated into Christian life whenever possible. He followed the example of Jesus and Paul by living close to the people rather than separating himself the way other missionaries had. Perhaps his most effective strategy was that he allowed people to belong to his community before they believed. Former missionaries had built numerous walls that had to be scaled before they were included in any meaningful way.
In this, Patrick was following the model of Scripture. Jesus' prayer for us was, "My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. They are not of the world, even as I am not of it. Sanctify them by the truth; your word is truth. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world." (John 17:15-18)
Paul tells us, "Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone, to win as many as possible. To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win the Jews. To those under the law I became like one under the law (though I myself am not under the law), so as to win those under the law. To those not having the law I became like one not having the law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law), so as to win those not having the law. To the weak I became weak, to win the weak. I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some. I do all this for the sake of the gospel, that I may share in its blessings." (1 Corinthians 9:19-23)
Patrick took these teachings and more to heart, and God transformed a nation. I see many today who try to change the world using other strategies. Politics, marketing, power, and a holy separation that has little to do with God's call on our lives. These strategies are just as ineffective as those of the missionaries who proceeded Patrick. Our feast days and celebrations should be times of remembrance of the wisdom of God and his acts that defy human wisdom but bear such glorious fruit.
This year don't just settle for last minute plans on how to turn your food green (although that's really cool). Take some time to prepare. Learn a bit about Patrick and the Scripture that shaped his life. The God that transformed his life is still waiting to touch each of us.
(A great place to start your exploration is the short but important book, The Celtic Way of Evangelism, by George G. Hunter III)
Monday, March 12, 2012
Friday, March 9, 2012
The LEGOs of God
(no LEGOs were damaged in the writing of this blog)
One of the great blessings of kids is that a self-respecting adult gets to continue to play with LEGOs without attracting unwanted attention. But just in case anyone would be so foolish as to question my obsession with the brightly colored blocks, I have discovered that the fundamental principles of good LEGO construction have a great deal in common with the three anchors of faith. These three anchors are the necessary minimum for a growing, healthy life in Christ.
Anchor 1: Devotional Life
For in Scripture it says:
"See, I lay a stone in Zion,
a chosen and precious cornerstone,
and the one who trusts in him
will never be put to shame."
-1 Peter 2:6
Every good LEGO building begins with that first brick. It is the reference point for the foundation. You count the bricks from that point, making sure you plan the corners just right so the overlapping bricks will give the foundation strength. Each door and window must be taken into account so the structure will not crumble in your hands.
Jesus is that reference point for our lives. Not merely Jesus' teachings, his view of life,or his philosophy, but Jesus himself. Study, obedience, discipline, and service are all important, but they flow out of relationship. Jesus gave us his Spirit as a personal companion. Through the Spirit, the Triune God actively interacts with us, but we need to make room for conscious interaction if we want to experience all that Jesus died to win for us. Only in this way does Jesus become the cornerstone of our lives.
Anchor 2: Community
Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: [10] If they fall down, they can help each other up. But pity those who fall and have no one to help them up! [11] Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? [12] Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.
-Ecclesiastes 4:9-12
A pile of LEGOs is easily scattered, but when you interlock them, pressing them together so that each block on a line spans the break in the blocks below, they become strong. A foundation of LEGOs can take quite a bit of pressure and punishment when they are properly interlocked.
The same is true of the community of God. Together, we strengthen, encourage, embolden, and whole. We are not called to be single candles shining in the dark, but cities of light. Community needs to be realized through committed, sacrificial love rather than merely a few chance meetings and occasional fellowship gatherings.
Anchor 3: Responsibility
A pile of LEGOs has great potential, but they are not meant to remain a pile forever. They are meant to be built into something. Leave the pile long enough and it becomes waste and missed opportunities.
We are the priesthood of believers, a people empowered by the Holy Spirit and called to lay down our lives for Christ and the people he loves and is reaching out to. At some point, we need to reach out and take our part. Responsibility means that we accept our role as Spirit-empowered servants. We will never personally experience the full power of God's love and grace until we allow that love and grace to flow through us as we minister to someone else. Obedience to Jesus' call is not just an act of self-control and belief. It is also a life of self-giving and hope offered.
There is more that can be said about these anchors, more that can be defined and developed in our life of faith, and more that can be known about God's work of establishing his kingdom, but these three anchors are an essential minimum once we have given our lives to Christ. Our churches, youth gatherings, and Christian fellowships of all types need to emphasis these as our central anchors. If these are all a Christian concentrates on (and there is more that God offers), then they will remain healthy.
(I am indebted to Mary Gautreaux and Pete Bullette for their thoughts on the three anchors)
One of the great blessings of kids is that a self-respecting adult gets to continue to play with LEGOs without attracting unwanted attention. But just in case anyone would be so foolish as to question my obsession with the brightly colored blocks, I have discovered that the fundamental principles of good LEGO construction have a great deal in common with the three anchors of faith. These three anchors are the necessary minimum for a growing, healthy life in Christ.
Anchor 1: Devotional Life
For in Scripture it says:
"See, I lay a stone in Zion,
a chosen and precious cornerstone,
and the one who trusts in him
will never be put to shame."
-1 Peter 2:6
Every good LEGO building begins with that first brick. It is the reference point for the foundation. You count the bricks from that point, making sure you plan the corners just right so the overlapping bricks will give the foundation strength. Each door and window must be taken into account so the structure will not crumble in your hands.
Jesus is that reference point for our lives. Not merely Jesus' teachings, his view of life,or his philosophy, but Jesus himself. Study, obedience, discipline, and service are all important, but they flow out of relationship. Jesus gave us his Spirit as a personal companion. Through the Spirit, the Triune God actively interacts with us, but we need to make room for conscious interaction if we want to experience all that Jesus died to win for us. Only in this way does Jesus become the cornerstone of our lives.
Anchor 2: Community
Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: [10] If they fall down, they can help each other up. But pity those who fall and have no one to help them up! [11] Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? [12] Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.
-Ecclesiastes 4:9-12
A pile of LEGOs is easily scattered, but when you interlock them, pressing them together so that each block on a line spans the break in the blocks below, they become strong. A foundation of LEGOs can take quite a bit of pressure and punishment when they are properly interlocked.
The same is true of the community of God. Together, we strengthen, encourage, embolden, and whole. We are not called to be single candles shining in the dark, but cities of light. Community needs to be realized through committed, sacrificial love rather than merely a few chance meetings and occasional fellowship gatherings.
Anchor 3: Responsibility
A pile of LEGOs has great potential, but they are not meant to remain a pile forever. They are meant to be built into something. Leave the pile long enough and it becomes waste and missed opportunities.
We are the priesthood of believers, a people empowered by the Holy Spirit and called to lay down our lives for Christ and the people he loves and is reaching out to. At some point, we need to reach out and take our part. Responsibility means that we accept our role as Spirit-empowered servants. We will never personally experience the full power of God's love and grace until we allow that love and grace to flow through us as we minister to someone else. Obedience to Jesus' call is not just an act of self-control and belief. It is also a life of self-giving and hope offered.
There is more that can be said about these anchors, more that can be defined and developed in our life of faith, and more that can be known about God's work of establishing his kingdom, but these three anchors are an essential minimum once we have given our lives to Christ. Our churches, youth gatherings, and Christian fellowships of all types need to emphasis these as our central anchors. If these are all a Christian concentrates on (and there is more that God offers), then they will remain healthy.
(I am indebted to Mary Gautreaux and Pete Bullette for their thoughts on the three anchors)
Monday, March 5, 2012
Spirituality or Church?
The U.S. has been long known as very spiritual and ethical nation. Some would contest this fact, but in the end, their point isn't whether people are spiritual and ethical (at least in belief if not in practice), but their complaint is in the nature of their neighbors spirituality and ethics. It's important that we recognize the difference. Spirituality is on the rise, but church attendance is in decline. Why is that? I think there are two reasons: the rise of spiritual humanism and the need for personal encounters with God.
First, spiritual humanism. Atheism is not a major factor on the national scene. It has flatlined at about 4% of the population for a couple of decades now. On the other hand, spiritual humanism has been on the rise. This is the belief that life has a spiritual element, but we are in control of the content of that spirituality. We discover, define, and shape what is spiritual for us.
We are born into a world where we had no say in its composition. We didn't get input on the laws of gravity, the color of the sky, or the age of the earth (young earth distortions aside). We had to adjust to reality. Spiritual humanism sees spiritual life as less "real" than the rest of creation. If God is included at all, then God is seen as our servant, fulfilling our wants rather than guiding us into wisdom and love that moves us beyond ourselves. In essence, we see ourselves as our own gods and spirituality is a resource we can exploit.
Spiritual humanistic beliefs look a lot like debry picked up by a tumbleweed, bits and pieces of ideas picked up here and there but seldom thought through. In the end, it is the blind leading the blind, hoping to find some wisdom within, that will solve the problems of life. If the solution was within us already, I suspect the world would be a much happier place. Jesus' contention is that the solution must be found outside us, coming from the very real and self-defined person of God as Father, Son, and Spirit.
There is a second connection between the rise of spirituality and loss of church attendance. Spiritual implies a personal encounter with the spiritual. When Jesus died on the cross, the curtain in the Jewish temple that separated people from the presence of God was torn. Now ordinary people had personal access to God through Jesus. Many people today believe that Christian churches have rehung the curtain.
Over the last decade, lower church attendance has lead many churches to employ the tools of marketing. This has often placed the emphasis on tighter, more controlled church services, multimedia, and the size of their parking lot. These are all important, but not if there is no longer any space for authentic, personal experience with God. As I travel, I experience fewer churches where unscripted times of prayer are a part of services. Most worship has become a string of upbeat choruses with little pastoral leadership or variation to make worship an authentic encounter with God. Everything is focused toward the front of the church. We may have become too polished for our own good.
I believe that good teaching, knowledge of Scripture, planning and shared community time is essential. We do these things so we don't just waste people's time, but they mean nothing if they don't begin, point to, and end with personal encounters with God.
I left the church in high school because it seemed centered on nothing more than rules, philosophy, and self-help. I see a rise in that today, even among Pentecostals. I returned to church after I met a group of Christians who believed that they could intimately encounter Jesus and gave time for that experience in everything they did. Then there was a reason to gather.
For many today, they just want to protect the next generation, their youth, their sons and daughters, from the world. That's not enough. What's the use of protection from the world if they haven't encountered Jesus? Church should never be too safe or controlled. Don't make people choose between true spirituality and the church.
First, spiritual humanism. Atheism is not a major factor on the national scene. It has flatlined at about 4% of the population for a couple of decades now. On the other hand, spiritual humanism has been on the rise. This is the belief that life has a spiritual element, but we are in control of the content of that spirituality. We discover, define, and shape what is spiritual for us.
We are born into a world where we had no say in its composition. We didn't get input on the laws of gravity, the color of the sky, or the age of the earth (young earth distortions aside). We had to adjust to reality. Spiritual humanism sees spiritual life as less "real" than the rest of creation. If God is included at all, then God is seen as our servant, fulfilling our wants rather than guiding us into wisdom and love that moves us beyond ourselves. In essence, we see ourselves as our own gods and spirituality is a resource we can exploit.
Spiritual humanistic beliefs look a lot like debry picked up by a tumbleweed, bits and pieces of ideas picked up here and there but seldom thought through. In the end, it is the blind leading the blind, hoping to find some wisdom within, that will solve the problems of life. If the solution was within us already, I suspect the world would be a much happier place. Jesus' contention is that the solution must be found outside us, coming from the very real and self-defined person of God as Father, Son, and Spirit.
There is a second connection between the rise of spirituality and loss of church attendance. Spiritual implies a personal encounter with the spiritual. When Jesus died on the cross, the curtain in the Jewish temple that separated people from the presence of God was torn. Now ordinary people had personal access to God through Jesus. Many people today believe that Christian churches have rehung the curtain.
Over the last decade, lower church attendance has lead many churches to employ the tools of marketing. This has often placed the emphasis on tighter, more controlled church services, multimedia, and the size of their parking lot. These are all important, but not if there is no longer any space for authentic, personal experience with God. As I travel, I experience fewer churches where unscripted times of prayer are a part of services. Most worship has become a string of upbeat choruses with little pastoral leadership or variation to make worship an authentic encounter with God. Everything is focused toward the front of the church. We may have become too polished for our own good.
I believe that good teaching, knowledge of Scripture, planning and shared community time is essential. We do these things so we don't just waste people's time, but they mean nothing if they don't begin, point to, and end with personal encounters with God.
I left the church in high school because it seemed centered on nothing more than rules, philosophy, and self-help. I see a rise in that today, even among Pentecostals. I returned to church after I met a group of Christians who believed that they could intimately encounter Jesus and gave time for that experience in everything they did. Then there was a reason to gather.
For many today, they just want to protect the next generation, their youth, their sons and daughters, from the world. That's not enough. What's the use of protection from the world if they haven't encountered Jesus? Church should never be too safe or controlled. Don't make people choose between true spirituality and the church.
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Follow Your Heart?
Much is written today about Atheism. More than is needed in fact. How can I say that? Isn't the goal of apologetics to explain and defend the faith to those far from God? Yes, it is, but our apologetics and outreach should focus on the real people around us and not a fictional audience. Atheists only make up between four to six percent of the U. S. population. Some of them may keep a high profile, but they haven't been all that effective. Their numbers have not significantly grown in recent history. We should not ignore them altogether, but we should be giving more time to the major enemies of faith at work around us.
Chief among these is Romanticism. Romanticism is a philosophical and artistic reaction to Enlightenment with its narrow focus and trust of reason. In response, the Romantics triumphed the power of the emotions and insight. They believed that society and reason often undercut and twisted us, but if we listened to our heart we could live authentically. While most Americans know little or nothing about formal Romantic philosophy, it has invaded every part of our culture and become dominant in our thoughts.
Some examples would be useful. When someone says, "I am closest to God when I am out in nature," they are repeating a Romantic idea. The emotion of awe and pleasure that some people experience is interpreted as a religious experience even though there is no real belief or a personal focus of worship. The emotional experience itself is seen as a religious experience. When someone expresses their opinion about a factual topic by beginning the statement with "I feel" rather than "I think," it is an unconscious appeal to Romantic ideals. "If it feels good, do it," "always go with your heart," and "finding yourself" are all Romantic ideas.
So what's the problem? Jeremiah 17:9 highlights the problem:
The heart is deceitful above all things
and beyond cure.
Who can understand it?
While Romantic philosophers balanced Enlightenment thought somewhat, they are at odds with reality. They believed in a basic goodness in humanity that would allow us to trust our hearts, our emotions, in all things. That is at odds with all we learn from God about ourselves, and it be honest, it's at odds with what we see around us. We don't have to look far to see the train wrecks that have been caused by blindly following our heart.
Far more people are led astray by Romanticism than by Atheism. More important, though, is the degree that Romanticism has replace Biblical theology within the church. Emotions are often confused with the voice of the Holy Spirit. If I have an emotional peace about something, then it must be okay. That kind of peace most often results in mediocracy or disobedience. Statements such as, "I don't care what the Bible says, I have a peace about my decision," reflect that confusion.
But didn't Jesus take care of all that once I became a Christian? Actually, no. We are told that we find salvation and forgiveness when we come to Christ, but that is a beginning point of God's work of transformation. Our healing will not be complete until our resurrection in the age to come. Now, we are to cooperate with the Holy Spirit as we put off the old self and put on a new self (Col. 3:1-17). My heart still needs watching. I don't feel a emotional peace about the risks that God legitimately calls me to, and it's hard to "find myself" when I'm still being formed.
I don't despise emotion, and I don't try to pretend that God didn't make me an emotional being. It does mean that I look to Scripture and the Holy Spirit to build in me the character that I was not born with. In addition, I recognize that I am an active agent in building my character. God does not do it for me, but through Christ my deceitful heart has a cure that was impossible without him.
Chief among these is Romanticism. Romanticism is a philosophical and artistic reaction to Enlightenment with its narrow focus and trust of reason. In response, the Romantics triumphed the power of the emotions and insight. They believed that society and reason often undercut and twisted us, but if we listened to our heart we could live authentically. While most Americans know little or nothing about formal Romantic philosophy, it has invaded every part of our culture and become dominant in our thoughts.
Some examples would be useful. When someone says, "I am closest to God when I am out in nature," they are repeating a Romantic idea. The emotion of awe and pleasure that some people experience is interpreted as a religious experience even though there is no real belief or a personal focus of worship. The emotional experience itself is seen as a religious experience. When someone expresses their opinion about a factual topic by beginning the statement with "I feel" rather than "I think," it is an unconscious appeal to Romantic ideals. "If it feels good, do it," "always go with your heart," and "finding yourself" are all Romantic ideas.
So what's the problem? Jeremiah 17:9 highlights the problem:
The heart is deceitful above all things
and beyond cure.
Who can understand it?
While Romantic philosophers balanced Enlightenment thought somewhat, they are at odds with reality. They believed in a basic goodness in humanity that would allow us to trust our hearts, our emotions, in all things. That is at odds with all we learn from God about ourselves, and it be honest, it's at odds with what we see around us. We don't have to look far to see the train wrecks that have been caused by blindly following our heart.
Far more people are led astray by Romanticism than by Atheism. More important, though, is the degree that Romanticism has replace Biblical theology within the church. Emotions are often confused with the voice of the Holy Spirit. If I have an emotional peace about something, then it must be okay. That kind of peace most often results in mediocracy or disobedience. Statements such as, "I don't care what the Bible says, I have a peace about my decision," reflect that confusion.
But didn't Jesus take care of all that once I became a Christian? Actually, no. We are told that we find salvation and forgiveness when we come to Christ, but that is a beginning point of God's work of transformation. Our healing will not be complete until our resurrection in the age to come. Now, we are to cooperate with the Holy Spirit as we put off the old self and put on a new self (Col. 3:1-17). My heart still needs watching. I don't feel a emotional peace about the risks that God legitimately calls me to, and it's hard to "find myself" when I'm still being formed.
I don't despise emotion, and I don't try to pretend that God didn't make me an emotional being. It does mean that I look to Scripture and the Holy Spirit to build in me the character that I was not born with. In addition, I recognize that I am an active agent in building my character. God does not do it for me, but through Christ my deceitful heart has a cure that was impossible without him.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
A Good Idea at the Time
(This is a Christmas related story I wrote a few years ago based on middle of Luke chapter 2)
It seemed like such a good idea at the time.
The stone slaps a slow, tired rhythm against my flat feet. It sounds like the tired waves that fall to the shore on a too hot day that make you wonder if creation will have the energy to go on. Like the rocks along the shoreline, the stone beneath me that was once chiseled sharp and clean has been worn smooth by a thousand feet. But my path through it is the deepest. Time has worn me down as well. I'm not made of the stuff of stones. I should never have tried to play its part.
I was young then and full of life like a rutting ram. I didn't believe in old age then. Not my own, anyway. But I did believe in grander themes. I believed in a God who had made us a blessing. Not that we are such a prize. True, we are a proud, sturdy people. That's part of our problem. We are so proud that sometimes not even the very voice of God can call us away from our own plans.
But we are also a frightened people. Our fears are the fears of old men. We have built great cities and fought great battles, but the world has grown in and over us and we fear that silent time in the middle of the night when the wind comes and whispers in our ears, "Who are you? What will become of you now that your knees grow weak and your eyes have dried out?" Hard questions and uncomfortable for a practical people. We like our feet planted firmly on the ground. It's easier to push these questions aside and ask, "Where is our next meal to come from?" and pretend we are fearless.
I remember the day it all changed for me. I came to the temple as usual—well, perhaps not quite as usual. I was in a foul mood. I'd been cross with Ruth about some money that was missing. I accused her of being careless, but I found the money before I had left home. It was there where I'd put it and forgotten. Too stubborn to admit any fault, I didn't say anything to Ruth. I was still brooding, trying to find some way to avoid the blame. I went to the temple because it was the right thing to do—my father and all Israel's fathers had gone since we settled this land--but in my heart, I was not all that I could have been. I'm telling you all this so that there will be no mistake. What happened was not because I was such a good man.
If I had told anyone this back then, they would have laughed. I would have been accused of giving way to the vain visions of the young or worse, the visions of too much wine. Now, I've been here too long for anyone to laugh. All my friends have died and no one here remembers a day of their life when old Simeon wasn't shuffling around in the corner. There is no one left who knew me young.
That day my God sent his Spirit to me. There were no lights, the earth did not shake, but there was no mistaking the Spirit. It was like laying with a woman for the first time. The air was bright and alive like a cold, flowing stream. Each breath had to be bit off, swallowed and held down as if I had been plunged naked into that same stream. My heart threatened to burst my ribs. And there was a voice. It spoke in a whisper backed by the power of thunder. My people had been promised a day when God would visit us. On that day he would give us a new spirit. Our stubborn, rocky hearts would be worn away and we would be given a new heart that could rest with God and do what is right. It would be the beginning of a great peace. It would be good, and while we lived with hardship now, we all stretched out our necks out toward that day. The Spirit came to me and caressed me and promised. It promised that I would not taste death until that day came to pass.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was young and elastic. Now, my skin is stretched and flinty, my arms are thin and the wind taunts me with every step. It exposes my bony knees and picks at my dry eyes and laughs. It has been too long. Ruth is gone. The friends of my youth are all dust. In my youth, I would never have believed that there would come a day when I would long for, hurt for, that last, long sleep.
But just now, when my hope was as frail as my bones, I saw her. The whirlwind of people around the entrance to the temple parted for a moment and there she was. She clutched a small bundle of a child to her breast. Beside her was the husband carrying two doves. A sacrifice for the child, a consecration for the first born son. They weren't much to look at and I would have passed them by, but the wind pushed me forward. The mother looked up into my eyes from across the court. The voice of the wind whispered in my ear and I knew. This was the child.
I stumbled forward and caught the woman's arm. The husband moved to catch me, but she motioned him to wait. She unwrapped the child and held him before me and the world before me grew transparent like the ghostly vapors that play across the dessert in the late afternoon. I saw through the stones around me to what lay beyond. There was a whirlwind mounting that would strike my people. This was the child that would usher in everything that God had promised. It seemed too small a bundle to carry so much. When the whirlwind finally struck, it would raise many of the low and cause the high and proud to fall. That came as no surprise. When you have lived as long as I have, you realize that the world is in need of being turned upside down. But what I saw next made me want to crumble to the ground and hide my face and weep. This child was to be the glory of Israel, but Israel would speak against it. In the end reject it. But even though we would reject God's gift, God would not reject us. He would make a new Israel around this child with men and women from every nation. We would not be forgotten.
I realized that I had been standing, trembling before this young woman and her child like some senile old man. I put on a brave face and spoke words of blessing over the child. I described the good he would do before the bewildered parents. Surely they had to know that this was God's Son sent to save us from our pride and stubbornness and bring us back to God. But I wanted to spare them from the rest. Why bring tragedy to such an important day? Then for just a moment's time I saw her face as it would look that day when they broke her son. When God spoke the truth to my forefathers, he always spoke the whole truth. Nothing less would be honest. I spoke of her pain. Maybe it would lessen it a little if she were warned. But then I remembered that I had children of my own once. Nothing could have lessened my pain.
When I finished I felt as though the force of the earth bending my body down to the dust had been released. I almost believed I could fly. God had made a promise to me and he had kept it. My time was finished. There were tears of relief and joy in my eyes as I thanked the woman for her time. But there was awe at my last glimpse of the child's eyes. For the Spirit showed me one last thing. They were the eyes of a child and you could see the child behind them, but God was in there too.
I go away to die now. It's not a sad thing. There is no one left to say good-bye to. I'm tired and I want rest. I will see God soon. It really is comforting. Once it would have been frightening, but today I have had a preview. I've seen God's eyes and there is love there.
It seemed like such a good idea at the time.
The stone slaps a slow, tired rhythm against my flat feet. It sounds like the tired waves that fall to the shore on a too hot day that make you wonder if creation will have the energy to go on. Like the rocks along the shoreline, the stone beneath me that was once chiseled sharp and clean has been worn smooth by a thousand feet. But my path through it is the deepest. Time has worn me down as well. I'm not made of the stuff of stones. I should never have tried to play its part.
I was young then and full of life like a rutting ram. I didn't believe in old age then. Not my own, anyway. But I did believe in grander themes. I believed in a God who had made us a blessing. Not that we are such a prize. True, we are a proud, sturdy people. That's part of our problem. We are so proud that sometimes not even the very voice of God can call us away from our own plans.
But we are also a frightened people. Our fears are the fears of old men. We have built great cities and fought great battles, but the world has grown in and over us and we fear that silent time in the middle of the night when the wind comes and whispers in our ears, "Who are you? What will become of you now that your knees grow weak and your eyes have dried out?" Hard questions and uncomfortable for a practical people. We like our feet planted firmly on the ground. It's easier to push these questions aside and ask, "Where is our next meal to come from?" and pretend we are fearless.
I remember the day it all changed for me. I came to the temple as usual—well, perhaps not quite as usual. I was in a foul mood. I'd been cross with Ruth about some money that was missing. I accused her of being careless, but I found the money before I had left home. It was there where I'd put it and forgotten. Too stubborn to admit any fault, I didn't say anything to Ruth. I was still brooding, trying to find some way to avoid the blame. I went to the temple because it was the right thing to do—my father and all Israel's fathers had gone since we settled this land--but in my heart, I was not all that I could have been. I'm telling you all this so that there will be no mistake. What happened was not because I was such a good man.
If I had told anyone this back then, they would have laughed. I would have been accused of giving way to the vain visions of the young or worse, the visions of too much wine. Now, I've been here too long for anyone to laugh. All my friends have died and no one here remembers a day of their life when old Simeon wasn't shuffling around in the corner. There is no one left who knew me young.
That day my God sent his Spirit to me. There were no lights, the earth did not shake, but there was no mistaking the Spirit. It was like laying with a woman for the first time. The air was bright and alive like a cold, flowing stream. Each breath had to be bit off, swallowed and held down as if I had been plunged naked into that same stream. My heart threatened to burst my ribs. And there was a voice. It spoke in a whisper backed by the power of thunder. My people had been promised a day when God would visit us. On that day he would give us a new spirit. Our stubborn, rocky hearts would be worn away and we would be given a new heart that could rest with God and do what is right. It would be the beginning of a great peace. It would be good, and while we lived with hardship now, we all stretched out our necks out toward that day. The Spirit came to me and caressed me and promised. It promised that I would not taste death until that day came to pass.
It seemed like a good idea at the time. I was young and elastic. Now, my skin is stretched and flinty, my arms are thin and the wind taunts me with every step. It exposes my bony knees and picks at my dry eyes and laughs. It has been too long. Ruth is gone. The friends of my youth are all dust. In my youth, I would never have believed that there would come a day when I would long for, hurt for, that last, long sleep.
But just now, when my hope was as frail as my bones, I saw her. The whirlwind of people around the entrance to the temple parted for a moment and there she was. She clutched a small bundle of a child to her breast. Beside her was the husband carrying two doves. A sacrifice for the child, a consecration for the first born son. They weren't much to look at and I would have passed them by, but the wind pushed me forward. The mother looked up into my eyes from across the court. The voice of the wind whispered in my ear and I knew. This was the child.
I stumbled forward and caught the woman's arm. The husband moved to catch me, but she motioned him to wait. She unwrapped the child and held him before me and the world before me grew transparent like the ghostly vapors that play across the dessert in the late afternoon. I saw through the stones around me to what lay beyond. There was a whirlwind mounting that would strike my people. This was the child that would usher in everything that God had promised. It seemed too small a bundle to carry so much. When the whirlwind finally struck, it would raise many of the low and cause the high and proud to fall. That came as no surprise. When you have lived as long as I have, you realize that the world is in need of being turned upside down. But what I saw next made me want to crumble to the ground and hide my face and weep. This child was to be the glory of Israel, but Israel would speak against it. In the end reject it. But even though we would reject God's gift, God would not reject us. He would make a new Israel around this child with men and women from every nation. We would not be forgotten.
I realized that I had been standing, trembling before this young woman and her child like some senile old man. I put on a brave face and spoke words of blessing over the child. I described the good he would do before the bewildered parents. Surely they had to know that this was God's Son sent to save us from our pride and stubbornness and bring us back to God. But I wanted to spare them from the rest. Why bring tragedy to such an important day? Then for just a moment's time I saw her face as it would look that day when they broke her son. When God spoke the truth to my forefathers, he always spoke the whole truth. Nothing less would be honest. I spoke of her pain. Maybe it would lessen it a little if she were warned. But then I remembered that I had children of my own once. Nothing could have lessened my pain.
When I finished I felt as though the force of the earth bending my body down to the dust had been released. I almost believed I could fly. God had made a promise to me and he had kept it. My time was finished. There were tears of relief and joy in my eyes as I thanked the woman for her time. But there was awe at my last glimpse of the child's eyes. For the Spirit showed me one last thing. They were the eyes of a child and you could see the child behind them, but God was in there too.
I go away to die now. It's not a sad thing. There is no one left to say good-bye to. I'm tired and I want rest. I will see God soon. It really is comforting. Once it would have been frightening, but today I have had a preview. I've seen God's eyes and there is love there.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Stagnation is Cool... Then It Stinks
As a kid I loved exploration, poking and prodding the things that made up the life around me. One of my favorite activities was capturing and watching, bits and pieces of my environment. I had cans and bottles and jugs filled with a bit of the stream that ran through our backyard or of a lake or filled with random ingredients. I'd watch them to see what would become of these samples.
There were glorious surprises. A can with a bit of peach juice in the bottom would grow luxurious strands of grey mold. Swamp water would grow swarms of single-celled animals large enough to see with the naked eyes. Strange, wiggling life forms would begin to emerge from algae-choked jars of water.
It was great for a couple of days, but then the inevitable happened. Decay set in. The stench of death dimmed my fascination. The wiggly things turned out to be mosquito larvae, and I didn't want to be around when they morphed into winged predators with a taste for my blood.
Stagnation has a limited appeal, and what was true for my early nature experiments is true for faith. I have a goal. It has actually sparked concern and alarm among traditionalists at times. I want my view of the world and of God to go through some radical change every two years or so. If not, I feel nervous.
Why? Because I don't want to stagnate. I'm not looking for some new and radical truth that no one else has ever been able to figure out. Originality is not my goal. I'm looking for understanding that is new to me. God is so big, his wisdom so vast, his understanding so far beyond me that I never want to be content with what I already know.
Spiritual stagnation comes when we stop exposing ourself to fresh opportunities for insight. What was in my jars died because they were cut off from new nourishment. They had become a closed system unable to survive. Each little environment consumed itself and died. My spiritual growth is dependent on an open system. Nourishment comes from God and his Spirit. That may seem sufficient, but it is not. God has chosen to work through his people to add to our, (if you will allow me to stretch out the analogy), spiritual nutrition.
The ‘me and Jesus’ model of spirituality can't be found in Scripture. Instead, we are given people who are gifted as pastors, teachers, and more, to instruct and train us (Eph 4:11-13). We are gifted by the Holy Spirit to minister to each other (1 Cor 12:7-11). These influences come from those immediately around me, or have been preserved by the writing of people such as Augustine, Luther, N. T. Wright, Timothy Keller, or Andy Stanley (This is not a comprehensive list).
God's truth is eternal, and my understanding is eternally lacking. If I don't work to push out the boundaries of my understanding, then I'll merely consume what I already know. If I don't challenge my assumptions, then God will not be able to correct the half truths that I carry with me. Tradition will replace a dynamic life. If I don't continue to ask, seek, and knock, if I'm not willing to test what I think I know while being open to be proven wrong (while God is proven right), then I will stagnate and never know the true meaning of abundant life.
There were glorious surprises. A can with a bit of peach juice in the bottom would grow luxurious strands of grey mold. Swamp water would grow swarms of single-celled animals large enough to see with the naked eyes. Strange, wiggling life forms would begin to emerge from algae-choked jars of water.
It was great for a couple of days, but then the inevitable happened. Decay set in. The stench of death dimmed my fascination. The wiggly things turned out to be mosquito larvae, and I didn't want to be around when they morphed into winged predators with a taste for my blood.
Stagnation has a limited appeal, and what was true for my early nature experiments is true for faith. I have a goal. It has actually sparked concern and alarm among traditionalists at times. I want my view of the world and of God to go through some radical change every two years or so. If not, I feel nervous.
Why? Because I don't want to stagnate. I'm not looking for some new and radical truth that no one else has ever been able to figure out. Originality is not my goal. I'm looking for understanding that is new to me. God is so big, his wisdom so vast, his understanding so far beyond me that I never want to be content with what I already know.
Spiritual stagnation comes when we stop exposing ourself to fresh opportunities for insight. What was in my jars died because they were cut off from new nourishment. They had become a closed system unable to survive. Each little environment consumed itself and died. My spiritual growth is dependent on an open system. Nourishment comes from God and his Spirit. That may seem sufficient, but it is not. God has chosen to work through his people to add to our, (if you will allow me to stretch out the analogy), spiritual nutrition.
The ‘me and Jesus’ model of spirituality can't be found in Scripture. Instead, we are given people who are gifted as pastors, teachers, and more, to instruct and train us (Eph 4:11-13). We are gifted by the Holy Spirit to minister to each other (1 Cor 12:7-11). These influences come from those immediately around me, or have been preserved by the writing of people such as Augustine, Luther, N. T. Wright, Timothy Keller, or Andy Stanley (This is not a comprehensive list).
God's truth is eternal, and my understanding is eternally lacking. If I don't work to push out the boundaries of my understanding, then I'll merely consume what I already know. If I don't challenge my assumptions, then God will not be able to correct the half truths that I carry with me. Tradition will replace a dynamic life. If I don't continue to ask, seek, and knock, if I'm not willing to test what I think I know while being open to be proven wrong (while God is proven right), then I will stagnate and never know the true meaning of abundant life.
Monday, December 5, 2011
Christmas: Focus Beyond the Family
The practice of celebrating Christmas began as a community festival to celebrate the birth of Christ much like Easter was already celebrated. It was a worship gathering and a festival to be shared. In our individualistic culture it has shrunk from the community celebration to a family gathering. This has changed the celebration in many ways and taken some of what is special and redemptive out of Christmas.
Jesus' birth marks the beginning of a new people a new stage in God's work to establish his Kingdom on earth. Jesus' life exemplifies Jesus' love; his death and resurrection establish the possibility of being united with God; and the gift of his Holy Spirit unite us together as the new community of God. As Paul says when describing communion, "And is not the bread that we break a participation in the body of Christ? Because there is one loaf, we, who are many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf." (1 Cor 10:16-17) Our individual commitment to Jesus leads to a new corporate reality where love, care, and forgiveness are actively practiced.
The celebration of Jesus' birth should be a celebration of his mission. No wet blanket here. Celebrations are a good thing. God gave Israel feast days to celebrate and remember his great works. The work isn't finished, but that doesn't mean that we should be miserly in our celebration of Jesus' decisive and game changing acts. God's promises were fulfilled in Jesus and the angels heralded Jesus' birth as the day everything began to change.
But Christmas is also a day to remember that the Kingdom has not yet been fully established. Many believers come from broken, damaged, and damaging families. As a community we encourage, heal, and give hope. As individuals, people remain alone. Many twenty-somethings are separated from their families due to jobs, education, and even missions. Young professionals today tend to be more isolated. Many of this generation are now labeled nomadic Christians because they have ceased to belong, but maybe our focus on the nuclear family, orphans those who don't have a nuclear family of their own. Families are important, but the New Testament places its emphasis on the gathered community of God.
Christmas was also a time to remember the poor and the abused. To include the outsider. It was not seen as the one day to make up for ignoring the poor the rest of the year. Instead, it was a reminder that God's justice was meant for all, a reminder of how we were to live the rest of the year. It was a reminder that God expected more of us than to be good capitalists. The pagan villain of Dickens', A Christmas Carol was a great capitalist. He would have made modern writers like Ayn Rand proud.
I don't reject capitalism. It has much to commend it. But any "ism" must be tempered by God's wisdom and love. God's love doesn't only extend to the poor, the forgotten, and the abused, but it even embraces my enemy. And it extends - and this is hard in today's protective political climate - to the stranger, the immigrants among us.
How do we celebrate and care for those around us without wearing ourselves out or giving up in despair? We do it together as communities. Christmas doesn't really have to be less than a feast, a time with family, and even a football game. But it can be so much more. Presents aren't necessarily an evil, but people are more important. Together, Christmas can be an active celebration of God turning back the curse, of love breaking into the world, and a foretaste of what God has in store for us. Christmas was meant to be a public, community feast and celebration that reminds the world who we hope in and what we hope for. Enjoy it together.
Jesus' birth marks the beginning of a new people a new stage in God's work to establish his Kingdom on earth. Jesus' life exemplifies Jesus' love; his death and resurrection establish the possibility of being united with God; and the gift of his Holy Spirit unite us together as the new community of God. As Paul says when describing communion, "And is not the bread that we break a participation in the body of Christ? Because there is one loaf, we, who are many, are one body, for we all partake of the one loaf." (1 Cor 10:16-17) Our individual commitment to Jesus leads to a new corporate reality where love, care, and forgiveness are actively practiced.
The celebration of Jesus' birth should be a celebration of his mission. No wet blanket here. Celebrations are a good thing. God gave Israel feast days to celebrate and remember his great works. The work isn't finished, but that doesn't mean that we should be miserly in our celebration of Jesus' decisive and game changing acts. God's promises were fulfilled in Jesus and the angels heralded Jesus' birth as the day everything began to change.
But Christmas is also a day to remember that the Kingdom has not yet been fully established. Many believers come from broken, damaged, and damaging families. As a community we encourage, heal, and give hope. As individuals, people remain alone. Many twenty-somethings are separated from their families due to jobs, education, and even missions. Young professionals today tend to be more isolated. Many of this generation are now labeled nomadic Christians because they have ceased to belong, but maybe our focus on the nuclear family, orphans those who don't have a nuclear family of their own. Families are important, but the New Testament places its emphasis on the gathered community of God.
Christmas was also a time to remember the poor and the abused. To include the outsider. It was not seen as the one day to make up for ignoring the poor the rest of the year. Instead, it was a reminder that God's justice was meant for all, a reminder of how we were to live the rest of the year. It was a reminder that God expected more of us than to be good capitalists. The pagan villain of Dickens', A Christmas Carol was a great capitalist. He would have made modern writers like Ayn Rand proud.
I don't reject capitalism. It has much to commend it. But any "ism" must be tempered by God's wisdom and love. God's love doesn't only extend to the poor, the forgotten, and the abused, but it even embraces my enemy. And it extends - and this is hard in today's protective political climate - to the stranger, the immigrants among us.
How do we celebrate and care for those around us without wearing ourselves out or giving up in despair? We do it together as communities. Christmas doesn't really have to be less than a feast, a time with family, and even a football game. But it can be so much more. Presents aren't necessarily an evil, but people are more important. Together, Christmas can be an active celebration of God turning back the curse, of love breaking into the world, and a foretaste of what God has in store for us. Christmas was meant to be a public, community feast and celebration that reminds the world who we hope in and what we hope for. Enjoy it together.
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