Gaudete – a forward-looking joy

After the doomsday hype of the last couple of days, the heart-wrenching tragedy of the past week in Connecticut, and what for some has been a particularly difficult and challenging year, financially, in 2012 — perhaps we are many in voicing our eagerness to leave the past behind and move forward.

What can inspire us to move on?

I suspect, if you’ve had children, hanging around babies comes close. It’s a good time of year to surround yourself with children. In the presence of new birth my heart and mind usually go in a good direction.

There’s nothing like a pregnancy to inspire the soul. Rather than look backward, waiting for a child to be born turns one’s sights forward in hope and anticipation.

A well-timed baby-kick during pregnancy can kick-start this hope and joy in us. When Mary greets Elizabeth, the baby in Elizabeth’s tummy gives her a good hoof (Luke 1:41) — true to character John the Baptist is!

Sometimes the baby-kick is not a very pleasant experience at all. It can throw you off balance, literally: A pink slip. A relationship break up. A phone call in the middle of the night. Interesting, in retrospect, how a baby-kick can happen serendipitously yet profoundly at the right moment in time.

The recognition of this ‘kick’ demands a response, does it not? Laughter, for some, if appropriate. Preparation, for another: We make plans and get things ready.

When a baby kicks, it means things are happening in us and in the world that turn our attention forward, to what is truly important, to what is hopeful.

Another text read during Advent comes from Paul’s letter to the Philippians. During Advent the theme of joy is heralded by the oft quoted scripture: “Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I tell you, Rejoice!” (Philippians 4:4)

What is peculiar about the Greek here, is that the meaning of the word for “Rejoice” can also be translated as “Farewell”.

Being that Paul was in a Roman prison when he wrote this letter to the Philippian church, was Paul encouraging the Philippians to look forward to a future with Christ but without Paul, instead of gaining inspiration and joy simply from what has been accomplished in past events alone?

Isn’t that the way we normally see it, though? We can give thanks and find joy and inspiration based in the past — all the good we see there in our memory. As inspiring and important a spiritual act this is, the Advent message turns us forward, not backward, in our faith. And yes, in our joy, too.

In fact, the joy we celebrate in this season — as in anticipating the birth of a holy child — is not so much about a “pursuit of happiness” defined by the American dream but rather a “longing” for that which we hope.

The German word “Sehnsucht” captures the essence of Christian joy, as proposed by C.S. Lewis. Others have expressed this joy in worship — in African American worship, for example, so often associated with joy.

But African American worship is not about unrestrained frivolity as much as it is better characterized by a deep longing. (Barbara Holmes, Joy Unspeakable: Contemplative Practices of the Black Church, Augsburg Fortress, 2004, p.6). A deep longing, yearning, for that which is promised brings joy to the heart.

In Advent we express joy not because of what has happened. The joy we celebrate this season is not anchored in bright circumstances. Neither does it emerge from a soupy sentimentality, a noxious nostalgia.

Rather, the joy we celebrate is kick-started by the unexpected, surprising gift of divine presence. The Lord is near!

And it brings forth from us an impassioned response for that which we wait. This joy looks forward.

The gift of Jesus turns our attention to others, to God in prayer, and to God’s best things. As such, this joy can withstand the darkest of times. So, fear not!

The joy of the Lord is near!

Read it again: We are the messengers

A message to children on the 2nd Sunday of Advent  —

Read Luke 3:1-2 out loud to the children:

“In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler* of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler* of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler* of Abilene,2during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.”

What did that mean – all those names of people you know little if anything about?

Let me read these verses again, with some changes, and see if the meaning of the word might make better sense for us today:

“In the 2nd year of Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s majority government, when Dalton McGuinty was still premier of Ontario, and Jim Watson was mayor of Ottawa, and the Rev. Susan Johnson was the national bishop of our ELCIC, and the Rev. Michael Pryse was the bishop of the Eastern Synod, the word of God came to us – right here at Faith. And we will leave here and go into our schools, and homes, to our work and sports teams, over mountains and along highways to share the good news of Jesus Christ. As it is written in the Bible …”

What difference did that reading make? Maybe it brought the bible a little closer to home.

John the Baptist was called to be a messenger of God – to prepare the way of the Lord Jesus who was coming. Two thousand years ago, he was the first one.

Today, we are the messengers, along with our parents and friends and fellow believers. We can share the good news and invite others to celebrate with us.

How can we get ready for Jesus’ coming?

1gift4good.

One small deed/act/gift to another person …. Ideas?

–        Drop a loonie in a Salvation Army kettle in the mall

–        Parents – become an organ donor by signing the back of your drivers’ license

–        Pray for someone in particular

–        Light candles on the advent wreath

–        Learn a new song

–        Read the bible out loud for someone

–        Make a Christmas decoration to give to someone in the nursing home or to an elderly friend or relative

– Invite someone to church for Christmas

–        Parents – let someone else have that parking spot near the mall, or let someone in front of you in a long line up

Prayer: Dear Jesus, thank you for coming to us this Christmas. Prepare our hearts to receive you, by doing and giving, one small gift for good. Amen.

Who’s feeling the pressure?

Feeling the pressure lately?

You’d have to live on a different planet if you didn’t notice in the people around you — in the malls, community centers, sports venues, wherever people gather — and perhaps in yourself, too: a heightened intensity, pace and anxiety.

There are people to please, stuff to buy, items to check off the list, more food to digest — and only a couple more weeks till Christmas! Traffic’s snarling, noise is rising, patience wearing thin in crowded places.

Feeling it yet?

But maybe the pressure you feel isn’t associated with the typical distractions of the season. Maybe you’ve simply refused to participate in all the hubbub. Good on you. But maybe the pressure you feel has more to do with a personal challenge you face at this time.

And discordant it can feel — especially when everyone’s supposed to be in a jolly mood. How can you feel happy when your health is failing, or you’re facing bankruptcy, or your marriage is on the rocks, or you’ve just lost your job, or anticipating the first Christmas without a loved one? The pressure to make things right weighs heavily. Maybe you’re not up to it. Maybe you just want to give up.

That last thing we want to hear this time of year is a word like the one from Malachi. But at least we can relate to the rhetorical question Malachi poses here in anticipating the coming of the Lord: “Who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears?” (3:2)

It certainly isn’t what we feel we need — a little more sweetness, softly falling snowflakes, quiet, rest, peace. We envy those who claim they ‘feel’ Christmas in the air, and chide ourselves for whatever circumstances sour our mood in any pressure-filled moment.

Indeed, trying to get the right feeling is part of our problem. Getting in the right mood may very well be causing us the undue pressure. Because we have to feel right before we can truly celebrate the Lord’s coming. And if we’re not feeling the right things, then how can we celebrate?

The text of Malachi 3:1-4 appears in one of the signature choral works of this season, Handel’s Messiah. Indeed, the music of the season can affect how we feel. Music can get us all emotional; music stirs the heart’s strings, makes us feel good and lifts us up. It can also — as it does with the Messiah — “sing the Word, and proclaim the good news” (Deborah A. Block and Seth Moland Kovash, Feasting on the Word, Year C Vol.1, p.30-31).

After the first presentation of Messiah in London, England, in 1741, Handel wrote to a friend: “I should be sorry if I only entertained them. I wished to make them better.”

Handel’s confession suggests that the message of the season needs to go beyond feelings, beyond sentimentality. At some level, if we are to make it through (read, ‘survive’) this season so full of pressure, we will need to go beyond feeling good to doing good.

But wait a minute, now! By doing good, aren’t we just adding to the pressure?

Let’s take a closer look at the text from Malachi and see for what purpose we experience the “fullers’ soap” and “refiner’s fire” (v.2) — phrases often associated with God’s judgment.

But why did the people in the post-exilic, second temple period (circa 500 B.C.E) receive this word — this pressure-laden word — to be righteous in the first place? What is the underlying purpose of the pressure to present themselves as “acceptable” or “pleasing” offerings to God (v.4)?

Well, God is coming! And God is coming unexpectedly, “suddenly” (v.1).

Which can only mean God is coming despite us. Whether we perform or not. Whether we do all the right things or not. Whether we get everything done in time or not. Whether we feel like it or not.

You know, God desires to be in our presence. God wants to be with us because God loves us. God created each one of us, an image of God’s divinity in our being.

Whatever we do, then, it is not for our sake, but God’s. Whatever little act of compassion we give to another, whatever singular act of mercy we offer, whatever gift from the heart we render — these are not for our glory or benefit, but God’s glory, God’s purposes, God’s mission.

The purpose of the “refinement” that we endure in this life, is not punishment for any wrongs we have committed, any sins that we will continue to commit. The end game of any burden we carry through this life is restoration with God, union with God and one another.

That’s why we do the work. Because the end of history will be good, no matter what. The promise of Malachi is that our offerings “will be pleasing” to God. The promise of this restoration with God is sure. It will happen, and it will happen under God’s control and in God’s time. The refining is not waiting for us to feel good about it.

So, what do we have to lose in doing the right thing whether or not we feel like it yet, whether or not we feel we’re up to it? As Martin Luther once instructed: “Sin boldly, and trust in God even more.” I don’t think Luther was encouraging any one to sin. But he was emphasizing the need to take a risk for the sake of God. And not to worry about results, reputation or reaction. Just do it!

Although by 1751 Handel was blind, until his death he conducted Messiah as an annual benefit for the Foundling Hospital in London which served mostly widows and orphans of clergy. The intent was not just to entertain and make everyone feel good. Handel’s hope was to make people better and just. His ear was open to the prophetic word: “Present offerings to the Lord in righteousness” (3:3).

Christ is coming. So, let’s prepare the way of the Lord. And do good.

(Hint: And after doing some good it will make us feel good, too!)

The B2CS New Year’s resolutions

B2CS stands for “Back to Church Sunday”. Michael Harvey from the United Kingdom wrote a book entitled “Unlocking the Growth” which outlines this movement happening across the globe in the last decade, predominantly in mainline Christian denominations. He’s also produced a couple DVD seminars and makes resources available every year to help kick-start this initiative in your church. The vision is simple: double a congregation on one day, when each member invites one person: “Would you come to church with me?”

Recently, upon conclusion of a small leaders group which I facilitated preparing for B2CS 2013, I asked participants to make some new year’s resolutions: What is one thing about this challenge you would like to try in 2013 in your congregation?

I like relating B2CS with New Years because B2C is not just about a one-off event for just one day in the year — it’s a process. It is like fertilizing, tilling and working the ground in preparation for the growth to happen. For example, B2CS emphasizes the vital importance of the gift of friendship. And friendship is something organic; it takes time and effort to foster a good friendship. It is then in the context of a friendship wherein the question can naturally be asked: “Would you come to church with me?”

I also like linking B2CS with New Years because both events signal a new start in the life of a congregation. Introducing the congregation to the challenge of invitation creates a cultural shift that can be seismic in proportion.

Invitation is a call to claim a new identity among members from being spectators each Sunday to being hosts. Therefore, B2CS can shape and refresh a collective understanding of what church, what evangelism, what faith and what following Jesus really means in today’s world.

New Year’s resolutions are about doing the little yet consequential things, mindful that every thing we do and every word we say can affect our lives in a positive way.

Resolutions are about creating a habit in behavior. Do something 21 times, I once heard, before it becomes a habit: Practicing the question — “Would you come to church with me?”; Repeating the skills — praying and taking responsibility for each, precious visitor that walks through the threshold of the church building; Trying something new a few times — like spending more time with newcomers rather than regulars, during a congregational event.

Here are the New Year’s resolutions of the local, Ottawa group preparing for B2CS 2013:

1. Intentionally pray for whom God is preparing for me to invite;

2. Work towards creating more small groups within my congregation;

3. Reach out in love to those on the fringe of my congregation — the ‘inactives’;

4. Publish a Lenten devotional of collected ‘stories of invitation’ from the membership, for circulation in my congregation;

5. Try not to sit in the same place every Sunday for worship;

6. Make people feel special, compliment them, appreciate them.

Excellent! Thank you! May God bless our B2C work in 2013! And, oh yes, Happy New Year!

Free-falling into Advent

After the first snow of the winter I joked with my neighbour at the bus stop that finally the snow tires can get their first, real test. He looked at me – a younger-than-me, responsible father of two school-aged children – and said, “The real test happens when you’re sliding sideways down the road.”

He went on to say that, after putting on the snow tires, he normally finds an empty parking lot late at night to do some doughnuts and skidding tests – just to get the feel of the vehicle on the snow. In order to know at what speeds and angle his car points to keep control of the vehicle, he has to practice losing control to a degree.

And then I was reminded of those car commercials where you see a car careening around a course at high speeds, and the implicit warning comes on the screen that these exercises are done by professional drivers.

Indeed, professional drivers know how it feels to – in a sense – lose control. Good drivers have gone there. That’s how one gains confidence in one’s ability. They do that by going to the edge of their perception of being in control. That’s how you learn – with much preparation, practice, guidance, making mistakes and modelling – you go to the boundary of experience.

My palms were sweating when I watched a couple of months ago the video of Austrian Felix Baumgartner break all kinds of records jumping from the edge of space.

An extreme sportsman, he was experienced in jumping and falling. And for this world-record-breaking event he had prepared meticulously. This was not some reckless, un-thought-through, impulsive act. Despite the millions of dollars spent, the months of preparation, the state-of-the-art equipment used, and the hundreds of support staff employed …

It was still quite the risk. He still faced uncertainty as he looked out into the vastness of space from the safety of the tiny capsule some 39 kilometres above the earth’s surface. With only a parachute on his back, he stepped into ‘nothing’. My palms are sweating just imagining that.

He could have died, and almost did. After jumping from the tiny capsule, he soon went into a lateral spin. Because of the minimal oxygen in the air at that high level of the atmosphere, one small errant move falling out of the capsule determined his course. Unless he could come to control it, his lateral spin would render him unconscious. But he couldn’t know exactly how it would play out until experiencing the supersonic free-fall.

He made it, despite those first two minutes when he lost control and his life was seriously at risk.

Before he jumped, standing on the threshold of the capsule looking down, he mumbled something – I couldn’t exactly hear all of it – but something that sounded like a creed, a statement of belief that focused his vision in that moment of uncertainty; he said: “I’m coming home now.”

Writer Anne Lamott wrote: “The opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty.” True. The logic is pure – if we feel certain about the outcome of our actions, well, what is the need for faith? The practice of faith necessitates a degree of uncertainty and ambiguity.

Evident in Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians (chapter 5) is the confusion of the early church about the coming of Christ. Therefore the focus of salvation in this letter is not on a past and accomplished act, but a continuing and future one (Feasting on the Word, Year C Vol. 1, p.16).

This focus adds to the ambiguity of the season. Because when we commit to a forward-vision of life, we cannot know exactly how that future will play out. There is a certain degree of uncertainty with which we must learn to live, and thrive. Such is the character of this season of Advent – waiting, and watching, for the coming of Jesus into our lives. But we know neither the day nor hour (Matthew 24:36).

The fact that the original hearers of the message of Paul were caught in this indecisive understanding of Jesus renders, in Paul’s words, something “lacking” (3:10) in their faith. Maybe they, too, sought a certainty of belief, demanded an unambiguous statement of religious doctrine about when and how exactly Christ would return. As a result, the community there struggled with conflict as different voices offered their own interpretation of how things should be.

But because something is imperfect about someone’s faith does not qualify them for ‘checking out’ from the enormous task at hand. Realizing the perfect scenario for religious life is not a prerequisite for living faithfully. Paul still encouraged the Thessalonians in faith, hope and love.

Just because you don’t think you are good enough for God and God’s church, or have a perfect understanding of the bible, just because you can’t recite scriptures from memory, just because the church is not unified around so many things – does not warrant pressing the pause button until things are perfect again, until you have it right, until all your problems are resolved. Living faithfully is not about standing in the shadows and not doing anything.

How can we make the best of an imperfect, broken situation, a ‘faith lacking’? How do we engage in living faithfully knowing that things in our own life and the life of the church are imperfect and incomplete?

This earliest writing of St Paul that we have in the bible was originally addressed to a group of labourers. Physical labourers. Paul’s message must have resonated among those labouring classes since Paul himself was a tentmaker.

The best way to wait for salvation, for the coming Christ, is to work at something simply, intentionally, faithfully and with discipline.

And so, Paul provides a way forward for a people waiting for the coming of Jesus. As we wait and live in the “already but not yet” in-between time of the ages, as we live in the imperfect times of our lives, we push on. We keep at it. We don’t give up. We remain faithful as best as we can. We do the work.

And the nature of the work is not sensational and complicated and extraordinary. The work is ordinary. The work is doing the little things, faithfully and intentionally.

What is this character of this work, precisely?

“… may the Lord make you increase and abound in love to one another and to all people, as we do to you” (1 Thessalonians 3:12)

The way to restore and complete the faith of Christians is in community. And not just any community – like a club, sporting venture, or social organization – but a community defined by people caring for other people, in the love of Christ Jesus. This is a community of faith that demonstrates mutual interdependence: Where one is weak, another is strong; where friends build each other up, helping one another, working together not apart.

And this kind of work requires preparation, attention, discipline, and commitment.

Paul calls the physical labourers to whom he writes to widen that circle of the faithful. This instruction is not only focused on that particular church in Thessalonica, but even beyond that for all people.

In this inspiring and vital letter Paul expounds the virtues of thanksgiving, boldness, joy and hope … despite evidence in the circumstances of life to the contrary, despite their faith continuing to “lack” in some way, despite living in the in-between time of waiting for the end time.

In truth, what the bible is clear in communicating through the prophets of old, the exemplars of faith, and disciples and apostles of Jesus is that complacency, withdrawal, cowardice, passivity, and despair are not useful nor helpful strategies for coping and growing and living through the present day, no matter what the circumstances of life.

Can we ‘free-fall’ for Christ? Can we do the work of love, be bold in whatever area of our lives needing the grace and healing power of God? Can we step out in faith – not without preparation, not recklessly – but firm in our faith that even though there is ambiguity and uncertainty and sometimes the fright of ‘nothing to hold on to’… ?

God is there. And God’s love knows no bounds. Even in space. Even in the vastness and emptiness of existence. In the poverty yet enormity of the moment when we feel like our life is on the line, the love of God and the love for which we work will surprise us with joy and eternal hope. That is the promise for which we live. And for which we love, and are loved. Forever.

The Grey Cup & Salvation

The Saskatchewan Roughriders were leading late in the Fourth Quarter by a couple points. The Montreal Allouettes had brought the football all the way down into the Saskatchewan end of the field in the dying seconds.

Time was running out for the Allouettes. The last play of the game would decide it. If their kicker could get the football between the goal posts in the Saskatchewan end zone, three points would win the Grey Cup for Montreal. The kicker missed by a hair in getting the field goal.

But it was not to be Saskatchewan’s day.

As soon as the errant ball was caught, referees’ whistles blew and flags went down. Even though Roughrider players and fans had begun to celebrate their seeming victory, suddenly the mood changed.

Too many men – that was the penalty. During the kick play, too many green sweater players had been on the field than was allowed according to the rule book. The play would have to be redone, this time 10-yards closer for Montreal.

And this time, the Allouette kicker nailed it. Three extra points on the board. Montreal wins the Grey Cup.

What so many remember about that 2009 Grey Cup Final was how Saskatchewan blew it. How they lost the biggest game in their lives, on a technicality.

You may think that this outcome was justified. The rules were broken. The referees caught the mistake. And justice was done. That’s the way the game is, right? Maybe the game of life, as well?

I often think about that game a few years ago as an example of how one wins in the kingdom of the world. The only way to win in the world is to earn your points, climb the ladder of success, or get lucky – and usually by either defeating others in your path on your own merit or by knowing the right people. Competition and a win-lose mentality under-gird these kingdom values.

When Jesus tells Pilate that if his kingdom was of this world his followers would be fighting to get Jesus out of his predicament and arrest (John 18:36), Jesus is describing how very different his kingdom is not only from the world of Pilate’s day, but ours as well.

So, what is Jesus’ kingdom all about? How can we find out about it?

One way of answering that question is to take the opposite of what the world is about. So, if in the world you lose or win on a technicality, in God’s kingdom you don’t. In fact God’s kingdom can be described as a win-win scenario for all the players – yes, that’s you and me and everyone. In God’s kingdom you don’t enter it based on how many points you have by the end of life, you enter it undeserving so, usually as a vulnerable baby in a baptismal font.

In short, God’s kingdom is about unconditional and undeserving love and grace. It’s about people, following in Jesus’ way, caring for people in mutual compassion, mercy and forgiveness.

There’s no being saved on a technicality here. Our winning salvation is not based on legalism and an appeal to the rule book. “From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ” (John 1:16-17). Because our salvation is not about us. It’s about God – God’s love, God’s grace – it’s what God does.

The good news here is that even though we may think we don’t deserve the big ‘W’, even though our lives may be sordid with sin, even though we might not believe we have anything worthy of God …. surprise!

You are the greatest winner in God’s kingdom. Because Christ is King!

What is truth? Part 3: In the doing

Pilate asks Jesus, “What is truth?” (John 18:38). He answers his own question moments earlier by pointing to the power of action; Pilate asks Jesus, “What have you done?” (John 18:35).

If Pilate wondered what the truth about Jesus was, he nailed it — perhaps instinctively — by laying this abstract question about truth firmly in the realm of behavior and action.

“They will know we are Christians by our love, by our love” goes the popular song. They will know who we are by what we do. The truth will be told more as a reflection of what is done than by what is believed or thought of.

Jesus healed the sick. Jesus spent time with the outcasts. Jesus crossed the boundaries of social norms to speak with women and touch lepers. Jesus broke laws which were stupid. Jesus spoke of God’s truth and love.

Truth is something we do. While intellectual truth can be stimulating, it does not fulfill all of our needs. God calls us beyond mere understanding and words and translate those thoughts into concrete action in the world. Meaningful engagement with the world is a prescription for truth-discovery.

What action stands foremost in Jesus’ encounter with Pilate? And how does this action reflect the truth about God? In this scene between Pilate and Jesus, Jesus invites Pilate to belong by listening to Jesus’ voice (John 18:37). We’ve heard that before, haven’t we? — Listening to Jesus’ voice …

Read John 10:1-16. There, Jesus describes himself as the loving shepherd who takes care of his sheep. He calls them by name, and they know his voice. Jesus is the good shepherd who wants his followers to have life, and have it abundantly.

Even to Pilate, Jesus gives himself to be his good shepherd. Even to the man who has power to condemn him to death. Even to those who hate and kill and are so lost in sin, Jesus offers himself in love, grace, mercy and forgiveness.

This is always Jesus’ invitation to us, and to all people. Jesus invites us to belong to his community. Jesus invites us to the truth which we will know in his love, compassion and grace.

We will know that truth in the loving actions of those around us, belonging in community. And we will receive that truth when we come home to ourselves and face the truth about our lives. And we are called to live as active witnesses to the action of God in the world.

What do you see God doing in the world around you and in the lives of people you encounter today? And what does this action reveal about God’s truth?

What is truth? Part 2: Belonging to community

I remember when I was ten years old I wanted to run away from home. My brother and I fought with my Mom over watching a TV show. Our disagreement led to this radical solution.

My brother and I packed our little red wagon with pillows, blankets, some twinkies, and a bottle of milk. I informed my Mom, and we were on our way.

We pulled our wagon down the sidewalk in silence. When we reached the first cross street a block away from home, we stopped. Without saying a word, both of us turned around and headed back with heads hung low.

In discovering the truth, not only must you come home to yourself and articulate your own desires, motivations and unique identity, you need to land in a community. This is the important second movement in answering: “What is truth?” (John 18:38).

At some point in the process of discovering the truth, we need to acknowledge the communal nature of truth-telling. It’s one thing to say discovering the truth is a personal journey; but it’s also a path that takes you beyond pure individualism. In other words, you can’t celebrate the truth of anything by yourself. In community we are greater than the sum of our individual parts. The truth can only be ascertained and arrived-at in the midst of others.

In the Gospel of John, Jesus relates the truth with “belonging” (18:37) — belonging to a community. Whether that community is a family, a church, a nation, God, our belonging is often tested. When things don’t go our way. When we don’t get want we want in that community. When others disappoint us. When there is disagreement. When we suffer. There are a host of circumstances that may lead us to question our belonging.

And when that happens, what do we do? Do we leave? Do we, as I tried to do with my red wagon and twin brother in tow, run away? Do we isolate ourselves behind fortress walls of fear and intransigence? What do we do when our belonging is severely tested?

Jesus hints that the kingdom of which he speaks transcends the self. When Jesus says that he was born for the purpose of testifying to the reign of God (John 18:37), Jesus is pointing to that which is larger than any individual, including himself.

We don’t exist unto ourselves. The sun doesn’t orbit around our individual planet; rather, we orbit around the sun! Our lives are meant for more than mere self-indulgence, self-acquisition, self-amelioration, self-justification.

When we discover the truth together, we’re not denying our individual, unique perspectives. We are not hiding our true colours from one another. We are simply affirming that if we are to find the truth, we will only do so together.

Belonging is not so much about individual decisions as it is about collective participation in community. That is why we make major decisions as the church, or as a nation, or even in families together. We share our differing thoughts and opinions with the awareness of our belonging to one another and to God, whether or not that unity is challenged or visibly shaken.

The movement towards community in discerning the truth calls for humility and attentiveness to those around us.

Where do you belong? Give God thanks for your belonging.

What is truth? Part 1: Coming home to yourself

The Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, John) read like a religious manifesto for truth-seekers. Those four books in the bible can be summarized by the question: “What is truth?” which Pilate asks rather dismissively at the conclusion of a spirited conversation when Jesus is brought before him to answer to the charges brought against the purported “King of the Jews” (John 18:38).

More to the point, these stories about Jesus life, death and resurrection describe a process for discovering the truth, in three discernable movements.

First, the gospel stories reveal several encounters between Jesus and various individuals, engagements whose primary effect is to recall those individuals back to themselves.

When I meet someone I don’t know, or who appears powerful, or who for whatever reason emanates presence, it is easy for me to lose sight of myself in the encounter. In the presence of greatness, we can easily lose our groundedness and be motivated to appear that which we are not — maybe out of fear, or out of social pressure, or out of trying to please others, etc.

That clearly was Pilate’s problem. He so desperately wanted to please the religious leaders in order to keep a semblance of political power. He evidently went against his own intuition, his own experience of Jesus (“I find no case against him” he confessed later — v.38) in his desperate effort to stay in control. In that weighty exchange, if anything, Jesus invites Pilate to be transparent, to share how it is with him, to utter the truth of his own life: “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” (v.34)

The first step in discerning truth is to be clear yourself about your motivations — from where you’re coming. When the first two disciples started following Jesus on account of John the Baptist’s public declaration (“Look, here is the Lamb of God!” — John 1:35), Jesus asks them: “What are you looking for?” (v.38). Here, Jesus invites them back into themselves. He doesn’t want them to follow merely, as a parrot would, by repeating what someone else says and do what someone else tells them to. Never mind what other people are saying, what are YOU looking for?

In another encounter of healing, Jesus asks the blind man what he wants (Mark 10:51; Luke 18:41). Why? It goes without saying, right? He wants to see again! But perhaps Jesus asks him this to help him freely name for himself his deepest desires.

In the same way at the beginning of his ministry Jesus confronts the Samaritan woman at the well: While she give him all the ‘right’ answers and doctrinally correct formulations, Jesus goes straight for her heart and invites a true, transparent confession (John 4:1-30).

And when Mary is overcome with grief she does not see Jesus for who he truly is outside the tomb that first Easter morning (John 20:16). She is so distracted by disbelief she thinks he is the gardener. Only when Jesus says her name, “Mary”, does the veil of distraction lift, and she recognizes him and confesses with her own lips the truth of who Jesus is.

We can’t do truth unless we first come home to ourselves. Jesus helps us — even Pilate, in a tense life/death exchange — to articulate for ourselves who we are, what we see, and what we want. It’s so easy to get distracted from ourselves in our noisy, busy world. It’s so easy initially to focus on some external reality upon which to heap blame or praise for all that happens in our lives. Coming home to ourselves is a necessary first step in discovering the truth about God and the world.

Pray for the eyes of your heart to see, hear and know the truth.

Do you deserve it?

It’s a natural part of being human to find comfort in someone else’s misfortune. When the guy in front of you spins out on the same stretch of highway covered in black ice, while you follow through safely? When moments before you intended to walk underneath the same dangling sign in a windstorm, it comes crashing down on an unsuspecting woman? When in a fiercely fought game of Survivor your buddy gets voted off instead of you even though you were just as vulnerable?

The Germans, as they often do, have a word for it: Schadenfreude – suggesting that you find some satisfaction behind someone else’s misery. And underneath that sentiment lives a legalism of deserving our ‘just deserts’, so to speak.

Whether we say it out loud or in our hearts, it’s the same sentiment worthy of critique:

If someone struggles with cancer, for example, and they had smoked earlier in their life. In trying to make sense of their unique suffering the thought comes to mind, does it not: well, they had it coming?

If someone suffers great loss, even loss of their life in a car accident caused by impaired driving – texting or alcohol – we say: they had it coming.

If a wealthy business person loses everything in an ill-advised investment we say: they deserve it.

If someone makes a bad decision in a relationship and it falls apart we say: they deserve it.

If someone is poor because of some character flaw we conveniently label them and say: they deserve it.

And on and on. Our popular mythologies support this: We speak of ‘making your bed and sleeping in it’. Even biblical images are interpreted that way: ‘You will reap what you sow’ (see Matthew 25:26, Luke 19:21, John 4:38). We seem to have constructed a social and economic world whose basic rule of existence is comeuppance. And then we smugly go on our merry ways. And nothing changes.

Except when someone suffers and dies because they didn’t deserve it. That gets our attention and sparks outrage, disbelief and even in some cases inspires wonder and awe: The millions of soldiers who sacrificed their life in war to preserve our freedoms. But what about the millions of children who die regularly because of hunger and poverty? Or, what about the innocent victims of violence and abuse? What about the misfortune that befalls someone, beyond their control?

The morality of the world drives according to this rule of those who deserve it, and those who don’t. And yet, we know it isn’t right: No one deserves any kind of suffering.

Enter Jesus. In the Gospel today (Mark 12:38-44), Mark records the last scene in Jesus’ public ministry. From here all that remains in Mark’s telling is the temple discourse and the passion narrative (Lamar Williamson Jr., Mark, Interpretation Series, Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1983, p.234).

So, this scene about the widow giving her all is an important glimpse into what Jesus is all about. Because Jesus is on the way to giving “the whole of his life”. But for what?

In this scene, the people coming to the temple lined up to give their offerings to support the temple treasury. Which means the money given here would go to the upkeep of the religious institution. Jesus’ critique of the scribes was basically an indictment against any religious enterprise that exists for its own sake.

The days are numbered for religious institutions that exist merely for their own well-being. True a couple thousand years ago. True today. So, it follows that in the next chapter of Mark (13) Jesus promises that he will destroy the temple, because it has not been a house of prayer for all people but has become a den of robbers (Mark 11:17).Therefore, the temple deserves destruction.

And yet, Jesus holds up this widow who gives her whole life to something that is corrupt and condemned. Why is that? Is there value in the giving, even though the object of that giving is corrupt, condemned and undeserving?

As I said, Jesus is on the way to giving “the whole of his life” on the cross dying … for what? For whom? A corrupted church? Broken individuals? A sinful generation?

Why, yes! For us! For all of humanity! For the whole world! For us who are condemned for our sins. For us who are corrupted by our misguided, broken ways. For us who misinterpret Jesus to justify our dog-eat-dog world of just deserts. This flies in the face of all our conditioning.

So, we have to practice: Should we give anything, will we give only to an institution that deserves our offering? Or, will we give because it is as broken and corrupted as we are?

Should we give of ourselves to those in need, will we give only if those whom we are serving have proven themselves worthy, or demonstrated some ‘perfect’ image of our own deepest longings?

What about ‘giving’ to others only because Christ loves us “while we were yet sinners” (Romans 5:8)? What about loving and serving others only because Jesus redeemed us imperfect, corrupted people? What about giving because we have something precious in our lives – two, simple, copper coins?

Notice in the story, those coins just ‘are’. As a character in the scene they fly under the radar even though they are a critical symbol to the meaning of the story. In the Gospel the two copper coins represent a basic possession – something all people have. We already have these gifts, not because we have earned them. Not because we deserved them. They are simple and in plain sight of our lives.

We give of ourselves when we value these simple gifts. And still we offer them to that corrupted world – in our precious time, our imperfect talents and our meager treasures.

We give of ourselves freely because Jesus already paved the way and redeemed all of who are – even the most seemingly irrelevant aspects of our lives.

I think we are challenged in giving of our whole selves not so much by the difficulty of the task, because we already have what it takes. What strikes fear into our hearts is the prospect of vulnerability at unmasking all our pretenses in the “enormity of the moment” (Michael Harvey, Unlocking the Growth, Monarch Books, Grand Rapids 2012, p.89). Let me give you an example from my own life some thirty years ago:

Frankly, I didn’t know what to do about the start of another year of youth group, meeting every Tuesday night at the church. I remember feeling a little anxious, socially. My father, the pastor, quietly indicated to me that youth group might be a good idea.

But, as a teenager, I wasn’t in a space to act on his recommendation alone, although I suspect people presumed it would be the most natural ‘line of communication’.

Everything changed for me after the youth group leader came up to me one Sunday after worship, and asked: “Would you like to come to youth group on Tuesday evening? I think you might enjoy it.” It was an awkward moment for both of us — for him because I could tell he was a bit nervous; for me, because I wasn’t honestly sure whether I wanted to go and what I should say in response.

I felt the enormity of that moment like we were both, in our vulnerability, putting our whole selves on the line.

In the end, I went. Maybe because I knew some of the youth that were going — and I thought they were pretty cool, people to whom I was drawn to spend some time.

Let me just say how grateful I am for that youth leader – his quiet courage, his guts, his boldness despite his nervousness. That simple, yet supremely valuable, gift of invitation made a huge difference in my life.

The gift of invitation, given out of love. Not because I earned it by anything I did; I certainly wasn’t the most popular kid on the block. Not because that particular youth group was perfect. Not because the kids who went were saints – anything but!

Thanks be to Jesus, who though the temple is destroyed, builds it up again! Thanks be to Jesus, who gives his whole life for that which in the eyes of the world is undeserving, worthless, corrupt and pointless. Thanks be to Jesus, the God we worship this day, who makes all things new.