The cat threw up this morning. Yeah, well, it might seem unsavory to read first thing out of the chute, but it was much worse to wake up to that sound. Non-cat people don’t have a clue, but cats have a way of announcing to the world that they are going to throw up. It is not a sound you can sleep through, believe me.
The problem was that this morning La Donna had to get ready and leave at o’dark thirty for a meeting about Mission U (that’s the new name for School of Christian Mission ... yeah, ... me too). Which meant I was on pet duty this Saturday. I had to get up earlier than I really wanted to in order to walk the crazy dogs and get their day started. And it also meant that there wasn’t anyone else to respond to the call of the wild from our three legged cat Hairy (yeah, well, he’s ... hairy) at whatever time it was. Oh, I could have waited for Maddie to clean it up, but since it was happening right beside my bed and I wasn’t likely to see her before your lunch date at noon, I figured I needed to take care of it.
Didn’t really want to. Just sayin’. But you probably assumed that. I mean who would? That’s not the kind of thing you get up to take care of because you want to. It definitely falls into the “have to” category. Don’t you think? Along with a whole long list of other things we could mention. Most of which aren’t suitable for publication. At least since someone could be reading this at meal time. Our lives seem to be full of the kind of thing from which we want to keep our distance.
Which is what I thought about when I chose the text for this week. We’ve been going full steam into this following thing. Embracing the joy of being close to Christ. Calling for surrender for the sake of the joy. And there is joy in following. But there is also struggle, there is also sacrifice. Jesus never seduced his followers by telling them how easy it was going to be. He was often painfully blunt about the hazards that await. It makes it hard to go along. Makes it hard to want to follow.
John 12:20-33 Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. 21 They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." 22 Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. 23 Jesus answered them, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. 24 Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. 25 Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. 26 Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor. 27 "Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say-- 'Father, save me from this hour'? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. 28 Father, glorify your name." Then a voice came from heaven, "I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again." 29 The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, "An angel has spoken to him." 30 Jesus answered, "This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. 31 Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. 32 And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself." 33 He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.
What happened to the Greeks? They just disappeared from the story. They told Philip that they wished to see Jesus. Philip told Andrew and the two of them went to Jesus. Jesus answered them. Really? That was an answer? What was the question? Jesus takes this moment of potential hospitality and turns it into an invitation to die. “The hour has come,” he says. Why because a couple of tourists from Greece show up?
Well, sort of. Step outside the action for a moment. For John there are always layers of meaning. Yeah, it seems a bit clumsy in terms of action, Greeks show up and are never heard from again. But on another level, they represent the world. They represent the rest of the world that is clamoring to see Jesus. Jesus has been limited by geography and by history. He has been confined to a little plot of ground and a group of people. But now knows that his mission is to go to all the world. Philip and Andrew see two nondescript tourists who want to see Jesus. Jesus hears a world crying out in need.
And he is ready to go. Even though he knows how this is going to have to happen. It is for this reason that I came, he declares to a bewildered couple of followers who aren’t quite sure where he is going. To move beyond the limitations of the flesh. To step outside the confines of time. To reach beyond the span of my arms. They can only go so far. And to show them he stretched them out. See, he told them that quiet afternoon, see, how can I embrace the whole world with arms that only go so far?
That’s my son, came the voice from above. That’s what it meant anyway. Father, glorify your name, declares Jesus. I did, says the Voice. I did in you, I did when you became flesh and dwelt among them. I did glorify my name in the life that you lived and the words that you spoke and the deeds that you did. I was glorified in your every act, in the breaths you drew, in the light you showed forth. And, there must have been a pause here, I will glorify my name again. There had to be a hush in the heavens as those words were spoken. A divine hesitation before declaring what was to come. I will glorify my name again, the Voice whispered, the Voice thundered, the Voice wept in the gentle rain that fell.
What was that, the folks standing around wondered? A sudden rumble of thunder, and few drops of tear-shaped rain. Maybe, some ventured, maybe it was an angel speaking to him. Jesus smiled that wistful smile as they once again missed the point, and said, the Voice was for you, not for me. To ask you to raise your eyes and see beyond yourself, see something more significant, see the big picture. The Voice was confirmation that I will indeed be lifted up, hung on a cross to die so that I can live. To die so that you can live.
See, I skipped over that little bit in there. Went from vanishing Greeks to Jesus conversation with God about his true purpose, his burden and his joy. Skipped right over the middle bit where he talks to us. Where he invited us to follow him. Invited us to hate our lives.
Excuse me? Why would the one who came that we might have life now want us to hate it? Seems counterintuitive to say the least. OK, he doesn’t really want us to hate living, doesn’t want us to despise ourselves and run around beating our breast and ringing our bells and calling ourselves unclean. What he wants is for us to hold our lives lightly. To hold ourselves lightly. It is not all about us, despite what various and sundry advertisers what us to believe. It is about something bigger than ourselves. It is about giving ourselves over to a larger truth, a deeper reality, a more profound life than the one we find at the end of our noses and fingertips. He wants us to extend our reach, just like he is about to extend his.
In fact he says that very thing. “Where I am, there my servant will be also.” Where he is when he says that is looking at giving his life away for something bigger than his own flesh and blood. And that is exactly where he wants us to be. Living beyond ourselves, living more deeply, living through surrender, living through giving ourselves away. We can find our lives by holding them lightly enough to lose them - not always physically. You know that something really profound is going on when you lose track of time, lose track of yourself because you are wrapped up in something beyond you. It might be art or beauty, it might be nature in its wonder and majesty, in its terror and power, it might be in the love and laughter of a soul friend, it might be the tears shed in sympathy with one you call brother or sister. But you can lose yourself, if you learn to let go. To hold yourself lightly.
And then even cats with digestive issues can’t derail your desire to embrace what God gifts upon you and those you love. Hold your life lightly, and you’ll be where He is.
Shalom,
Derek
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