I spent part of the morning decorating the sanctuary for Christmas. I wasn’t terribly happy about it, to be honest. Not that it wasn’t fun. Those of us who gathered enjoyed the community and the work, and the fun. Except for maybe David Carter’s puns. Just kidding, David, they were hilarious. Sort of.
Anyway, it was a good time and I’m sorry so many people missed it. It was a pretty small crew. So, it wasn’t the company that I was grumpy about. Nor was it the work (even though I left early to pick up a kid - sorry about that gang). No my grumble has to do with the timing.
Maybe I’ve been married too long, but La Donna has driven into me this sense of order and Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving just seems wrong somehow. It had to be done, I realize, but it just seemed too early. We’ve had snow and cold and the stores have had the decorations up for a month or more now. So, what’s my problem? Dunno. Just doesn’t feel right. Something is out of sync. Even when you can’t explain it, you respond to it. It is as if your soul can feel it. "This just isn’t right," we think - maybe without words to describe it.
I’ve moved from early Christmas decorating, into something more powerful. That feeling that nothing you are doing seems to work. The relationships you thought you understood, now seem to be out of reach. The community you thought you were a part of now seems alien and foreign to you. The world in which we live seems to have taken a turn that we didn’t plan on or approve of or completely understand. We are told if we just work harder, just focus more, just pay attention then it will all make sense, or we can work ourselves back into a right relationship with all there is, or at least enough of all there is to feel comfortable again. So, we try. With all our own strength and knowledge, we try. It seems to work for a while, but not for long.
It is to this frustration that Jesus speaks in our Gospel passage for this weekend. It is this belief that we can fix our own disorder, we can make things right by doing more, by working harder that he so wants to change. It is his desire that we find our way to hope, that we live in sync.
Take a look at these familiar verses:
Matthew 11:28-30 "Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. 29 Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. 30 For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."
Contextually, Jesus was referring to the burdens placed on the people of God by those in leadership who expanded on the law. When God gave the law to Moses on Mt. Sinai it was a pretty simple thing. Ten Commandments carved onto two stone tablets - straightforward, clear and concise, just what we expect from laws! Right? Uh, no. Ever read the simplified tax code from the US Government?
God tried to keep things simple. There were laws about how to worship and laws about how to live in community - and what else do you need? Well, heaped on top of these ten laws were literally thousands of interpretations and applications that also must be followed in order to stay right. It became so onerous that no one could remember them all let alone obey them. So, every one lived out of sync with God’s law, at least according to those in charge. Most people wanted to be right, wanted to follow the law, but it was impossible. So, they lived with the burden of not being right, not being pure enough to worship, not having access to God, except through those in charge who guarded the gates religiously. (Sorry - I blame David)
Jesus came along and said "take my yoke." One of the concepts we struggle with in this passage is the fact that there is a yoke to take and that there is rest to receive. Which is it Jesus? Yoke or rest? A yoke implies work, and rest implies ... well ... NOT work. We like the rest thing, aren’t too sure about the yoke thing, to be honest. Even if it is easy and light.
Someone called this passage the Great Invitation. That makes four "Greats" that I can identify. There is the Great Commission - "Go and Make Disciples" (Matthew 28:19); the Great Commandment - "You shall love the Lord" (Matthew 22:37 et al); the Great Requirement "Do justice, love kindness, walk humbly with your God" (Micah 6:8); and now the Great Invitation - "Come to me" (Matthew 11:28).
But the real question is, to what are we invited? Is it work or is it rest? Labor and struggle, or vacation and getting away from it all? Is this about heaven or about earth? Yes. To all the precedes. Yes. And no. The invitation is to a relationship. "Take MY yoke," says Jesus, "and learn from me." He is inviting us into a partnership, to labor alongside him in the fields of the Lord. He wants us to take on his spirit, his heart. He asks of us to be "gentle and humble in heart" as we live and work in this world. It is not a task so much as a way of living, a way of being alive.
So, it IS a yoke. There IS a burden. But it a yoke that is easy and burden that is light. Does that mean that there is no effort here? That it is something we do without thinking, without straining? Not necessarily. "Easy" in this case really means "well-fitting." The yoke that Christ offers is a yoke that fits us, it is right for us. It doesn’t rub in the wrong places and make us sore. There is effort, there is struggle at times, but it is good effort, it is healthy struggle and we feel the better for it. The burden of walking in the way of Christ is light because it is right, it is good, it builds us up rather than takes us down.
Christ doesn’t offer us an effortless life, but one that means something. We don’t get a struggle free life, but one that accomplishes something, and makes a difference in the world. Those around us are better because we are there. We are better, happier, more whole. That is the promise.
Sounds good, but doesn’t sound like rest to me. Unless by rest he meant something other than what we first imagine. Unless he meant something like the antidote to restlessness. That what he was offering was not so much a sun drenched beach upon which to kick back and nap, but a sense of belonging and of purpose that allows us to know that we are right, we are in sync with our deepest selves and with our loved ones (which is always a bigger crowd than we acknowledge) and with him. The offer of rest is another way of describing salvation, which has less to do with the gates of heaven and more to with the fields we plow when we are yoked to Christ. Certainly there is a promise of eternity and an invitation into the presence of God, but that promise and that presence are what make the burden of living so light and what make the yoke of Christ so easy. We will find, says Jesus, rest for our souls. Our backs are into the labors of love, our shoulders are bent to the tasks of justice, our hands are busy with the works of kindness, but our souls are at rest.
Walking humbly with God is offering yourself to the yoke of Christ. As a church what better can we do than be about the business of walking hand in hand with the one who calls us? As a church what better can we do than invest ourselves and our resources in that which brings us into the presence of God? What better can we do than to commit ourselves to the maintenance of the body of Christ?
What better can we do than to prepare ourselves for the advent of the Lord, especially when it seems too early!
Shalom,
Derek
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Justice Song
What do you sing about these days? An odd sort of question, I realize. Maddie was complaining the other day about getting a song in her head that she couldn’t get out. You know that feeling. Maybe you heard a snippet of a song, or something that sounded like a song, something that reminded you of a song. And now that song keeps playing over and over in your head. Even when you don’t want it to. You find yourself humming the tune, you find yourself mumbling the words. They are just there, rattling around in your skull, driving you crazy. Or if not you, everyone around you as you keep singing that song over and over. Because it is stuck in there - and it begins to define you in a way.
I had a friend who thought everyone should have their theme song, like in the movies. If you look at a movie soundtrack you’ll see titles like "Jack’s Theme" or "Liza’s Song." And this music would play whenever that character was central to the scene. Well, this friend thought that we should all have our theme music to play that would define us, that would announce our presence and point to us when it is our turn to enter into the dialog or to shape the action.
OK, I’ve had some weird friends over the years. But still it is an intriguing idea. If you had the ability and the opportunity to write your own theme song, what would it sound like? What would it say?
We start a three week stewardship series with the reading for this week. The whole series is titled "What the Lord Requires" and is based on Micah 6:8: what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? Each week we will examine one requirement as outlined in this verse. The stewardship connection is not just that it is that time of year, but that stewardship is our response to the requirements of God. Stewardship is how we manage God’s affairs in our living.
So we start where the verse starts, we start with the biggie: do justice. Read what Isaiah says in our reading for this weekend.
Isaiah 42:1-9 Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. 2 He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; 3 a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. 4 He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his teaching. 5 Thus says God, the LORD, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it: 6 I am the LORD, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, 7 to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness. 8 I am the LORD, that is my name; my glory I give to no other, nor my praise to idols. 9 See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them.
This is the first of four passages called the Servant Song of the book of Isaiah. There is some considerable debate about who is the servant referred to in the first verse of chapter forty-two. On the one hand it seems to be the ideal follower of God. Maybe there isn’t a particular reference at all, it is just anyone who seeks to follow, this is the kind of life he/she will lead, this is the kind of person she/he will be. It is an example passage.
Some argue that this was a passage read after the coronation of a new king. It was a reminder to the king and to the nation that a leader serves not for his/her own benefit, not from his/her own power, but as a servant of the Lord who called and equipped him/her to serve. It was a celebration of a new administration launched in hope. Sound familiar? If only all our leaders saw themselves first as servants, what a difference that might make in governing.
Others, who read a little further in these verses determine that the servant is the whole people of God. When Isaiah speaks of calling, of being the light on the hill, we know it is whole nation of Israel that was called to that task. It has echoes in the words of Jesus when he tells us that we are salt and light, the church is the light on the hill, inviting all the world to come and know what we know, to know who we know. So the servant is the community of faith.
Then, of course, we Christians can’t help but read these words and imagine Christ. Jesus was the servant of the Lord who showed us what a life of service was like. Jesus was one who lifted up the fallen, who received the Spirit of the Lord to bring forth justice. This is a prophetic passage, spoken and written hundreds of years before the one to whom it refers came to be.
Finally, it is hard to read these words and not hear the call upon our own lives. Each of us (as well as all of us, mentioned a couple of paragraphs ago) is called to serve the lord, to work for justice. Each of us, this is a call passage, an invitation to a way of living.
So, you might be asking, which is it? Which one is the right answer? Well, all of them. That is the glory of the bible, it functions on so many levels all at the same time. I believe that historically it referred to the king who ascended to the throne of Israel and to the nation who that ruler led. And sometimes they listened and sometimes they didn’t. I think it also carried the seeds of prophecy, paving the way for the coming of the Christ. Did Isaiah know he was talking about Jesus of Nazareth? Probably not, but God knew. Just as God knows that we have the opportunity to live as servants to God and to the people. This is indeed a calling, an invitation to live in certain ways, to work for certain ends.
And what might those ends be? Did you notice that the word "justice" appears three times in the first four verses? It seems pretty important, don’t you think? Especially when we read that we or he or someone "will not faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth." We can’t rest, the task isn’t finished, Christ’s work isn’t done until justice is established in the earth.
So, what defines justice? Well, that is more than I can resolve for you in the small space left here. But a glimpse is given in the passage. To establish justice is to open the eyes of the blind - whether those blinded by material things or limited education or poverty or prejudice or... It is the work of the servants of the lord to help folks see what they overlook. To establish justice is to release those who are imprisoned in dungeons or darkness - whether those dungeons are human made barriers to freedom and wholeness, to sustenance or beauty; or practices that enslave minds or resources and keep people trapped in a cycle of poverty or on the brink of illness or disease from the lack of sanitary systems we take for granted; or the lack of resources or knowledge that will enable children of God to know how valuable they are to their creator and to this world. That is the work of establishing justice in the earth - to be in the business of systemic change, lasting change that makes life better for all. These are the new things that are about to spring forth, the new things that we are to tell about. These are the songs that we are called to sing into being.
Someone once said that God didn’t say let there be light, like is says in Genesis one. God sang it. God sang the world into being. And we are now called to sing the songs that will bring forth justice. And to keep singing, and singing, and singing. Like that song we can’t get out of our heads, we are fill our vision with justice. This is our theme song, says Isaiah 42, the music that plays whenever we take the stage is a song of justice.
What songs are you singing these days?
Shalom,
Derek
I had a friend who thought everyone should have their theme song, like in the movies. If you look at a movie soundtrack you’ll see titles like "Jack’s Theme" or "Liza’s Song." And this music would play whenever that character was central to the scene. Well, this friend thought that we should all have our theme music to play that would define us, that would announce our presence and point to us when it is our turn to enter into the dialog or to shape the action.
OK, I’ve had some weird friends over the years. But still it is an intriguing idea. If you had the ability and the opportunity to write your own theme song, what would it sound like? What would it say?
We start a three week stewardship series with the reading for this week. The whole series is titled "What the Lord Requires" and is based on Micah 6:8: what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? Each week we will examine one requirement as outlined in this verse. The stewardship connection is not just that it is that time of year, but that stewardship is our response to the requirements of God. Stewardship is how we manage God’s affairs in our living.
So we start where the verse starts, we start with the biggie: do justice. Read what Isaiah says in our reading for this weekend.
Isaiah 42:1-9 Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. 2 He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; 3 a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice. 4 He will not grow faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth; and the coastlands wait for his teaching. 5 Thus says God, the LORD, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it: 6 I am the LORD, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you; I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, 7 to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness. 8 I am the LORD, that is my name; my glory I give to no other, nor my praise to idols. 9 See, the former things have come to pass, and new things I now declare; before they spring forth, I tell you of them.
This is the first of four passages called the Servant Song of the book of Isaiah. There is some considerable debate about who is the servant referred to in the first verse of chapter forty-two. On the one hand it seems to be the ideal follower of God. Maybe there isn’t a particular reference at all, it is just anyone who seeks to follow, this is the kind of life he/she will lead, this is the kind of person she/he will be. It is an example passage.
Some argue that this was a passage read after the coronation of a new king. It was a reminder to the king and to the nation that a leader serves not for his/her own benefit, not from his/her own power, but as a servant of the Lord who called and equipped him/her to serve. It was a celebration of a new administration launched in hope. Sound familiar? If only all our leaders saw themselves first as servants, what a difference that might make in governing.
Others, who read a little further in these verses determine that the servant is the whole people of God. When Isaiah speaks of calling, of being the light on the hill, we know it is whole nation of Israel that was called to that task. It has echoes in the words of Jesus when he tells us that we are salt and light, the church is the light on the hill, inviting all the world to come and know what we know, to know who we know. So the servant is the community of faith.
Then, of course, we Christians can’t help but read these words and imagine Christ. Jesus was the servant of the Lord who showed us what a life of service was like. Jesus was one who lifted up the fallen, who received the Spirit of the Lord to bring forth justice. This is a prophetic passage, spoken and written hundreds of years before the one to whom it refers came to be.
Finally, it is hard to read these words and not hear the call upon our own lives. Each of us (as well as all of us, mentioned a couple of paragraphs ago) is called to serve the lord, to work for justice. Each of us, this is a call passage, an invitation to a way of living.
So, you might be asking, which is it? Which one is the right answer? Well, all of them. That is the glory of the bible, it functions on so many levels all at the same time. I believe that historically it referred to the king who ascended to the throne of Israel and to the nation who that ruler led. And sometimes they listened and sometimes they didn’t. I think it also carried the seeds of prophecy, paving the way for the coming of the Christ. Did Isaiah know he was talking about Jesus of Nazareth? Probably not, but God knew. Just as God knows that we have the opportunity to live as servants to God and to the people. This is indeed a calling, an invitation to live in certain ways, to work for certain ends.
And what might those ends be? Did you notice that the word "justice" appears three times in the first four verses? It seems pretty important, don’t you think? Especially when we read that we or he or someone "will not faint or be crushed until he has established justice in the earth." We can’t rest, the task isn’t finished, Christ’s work isn’t done until justice is established in the earth.
So, what defines justice? Well, that is more than I can resolve for you in the small space left here. But a glimpse is given in the passage. To establish justice is to open the eyes of the blind - whether those blinded by material things or limited education or poverty or prejudice or... It is the work of the servants of the lord to help folks see what they overlook. To establish justice is to release those who are imprisoned in dungeons or darkness - whether those dungeons are human made barriers to freedom and wholeness, to sustenance or beauty; or practices that enslave minds or resources and keep people trapped in a cycle of poverty or on the brink of illness or disease from the lack of sanitary systems we take for granted; or the lack of resources or knowledge that will enable children of God to know how valuable they are to their creator and to this world. That is the work of establishing justice in the earth - to be in the business of systemic change, lasting change that makes life better for all. These are the new things that are about to spring forth, the new things that we are to tell about. These are the songs that we are called to sing into being.
Someone once said that God didn’t say let there be light, like is says in Genesis one. God sang it. God sang the world into being. And we are now called to sing the songs that will bring forth justice. And to keep singing, and singing, and singing. Like that song we can’t get out of our heads, we are fill our vision with justice. This is our theme song, says Isaiah 42, the music that plays whenever we take the stage is a song of justice.
What songs are you singing these days?
Shalom,
Derek
Whoops
OK, it has been a while since I put anything here. Sorry about that. Sort of fell asleep at the switch. Anyway, let me catch up with the last series of postings on my other site (http://groups.yahoo.com/group/LateNightBibleStudy/) and then I'll do Advent later.
Shalom,
Derek
Shalom,
Derek
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Construction Project
"We really need to do something about this carpet." That was the seemingly innocent statement made by my wife that ended up losing me nearly a week and a not inconsiderable chunk of change. We carted furniture around, we pulled up a smelly old carpet, we mopped and cleaned, pried up the tack strip, and we waited for floor guys and paint guys, bought a rug, and then moved it all back (adjusting the position of the new rug and furniture a few times until it was just right). We are still settling into the new space, but it is done.
Construction can be an unsettling process. I don’t know about you, but I am tired of figuring out how to get to the church around the Getz Road construction that was supposed to take two weeks and is now finishing three with no visible end in sight. On the one hand we are glad things are being done, but sometimes we wonder if it is worth the struggle to get it done. Sometimes we wonder if we wouldn’t be better off just putting up with something less than ideal so that we don’t have to deal with the change. And the change and the changing can be difficult. We aren’t always sure of the new thing that is coming, will it be better than what we had or not?
Personally, I like carpet. Wood floors or wood laminate floors just don’t have the coziness that I like. So, the change might not be what I really want. Let alone the upset and the effort and the deprivation (I had to put away my big TV and my Laz-y-boy chair for the duration and watch in the basement on camp chairs! Oh, the humanity!).
OK, enough whining, for the moment anyway. We all know that change is difficult. We all know that building something, even something of value is a complicated, sometimes frustrating process - often enough to make us question along the way whether the effort is worth it. But what does it have to do with our scripture and the fourth statement of the Creed?
What is that fourth statement? I believe in "the holy catholic Church." Ah, the church. That explains it. Doesn’t it? Since church is about change. Church is about building, isn’t it? Not a building, but building - the verb not the noun. Not everyone would agree. Especially on the change issue. Some folks want to focus on the stability, on the constancy of church. We want something to count on being the same, now and always. It was good when I was kid, why should it change now? Let’s just let things be, some would argue. Why stir it all up?
What is the church for? Stability or change? Constancy or growth? Holding fast or building up? Here’s what our passage for the week says:
Ephesians 2:11-22 So then, remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, called "the uncircumcision" by those who are called "the circumcision"-- a physical circumcision made in the flesh by human hands-- 12 remember that you were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. 13 But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. 14 For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. 15 He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, 16 and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. 17 So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; 18 for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. 19 So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of
God, 20 built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. 21 In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; 22 in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.
Some of you may be feeling set up. Sort of like I was with the innocent comment about the carpet. You might be thinking I could have chosen a different passage, one that was so obvious in making the point. But, truth be told, it is hard to find a passage about the church that isn’t about building, about change. That is what the New Testament presents. The church is not designed to be a place to go and hide, or go and sit. The church is not a refuge from the world, a bolt hole to go wait out the changes out there. It is a place of transformation. It is a place of healing, but not for healing’s sake. You are healed so that you can continue the mission of the church. It is a place of learning and growing, of serving and building.
Paul writes (I know there is some debate in biblical scholarship circles whether Paul actually wrote Ephesians - but I’m just skipping over that discussion for now. Send me an email if you want to have that debate!) that the church is about demolition and construction. Doesn’t sound very complacent to me.
The first order of business is tearing down the walls that divide us. I know, I know, according to verse 14, Christ is the one who tore down the wall. And that is certainly true. That which divides us, that which makes one better than another, that which singles out for inclusion or exclusion was destroyed by the life and death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ. The paradox is that though those walls were torn down, we keep putting them back up. Yes, we can and should claim the freedom in Christ to see all people as part of the family - beloved as we are. But we would have to be blind to not see that those dividing walls of hostility are still there. Which means that the body of Christ must be in the demolition business. We’ve got to stand alongside Christ to tear those walls down again. And again. And again. It is a never ending task, to be honest. It is also a sobering one when we realize that some of those walls have our fingerprints on them. Some of those walls exist within us as we seek to identify those who we would include and those we would exclude from our own circles. So a part of what has to change is our own propensity to erect walls of division.
If we’ve learned anything it is that deconstruction without construction is a fruitless exercise. Something will come along to fill the hole we have created, and it just might be worse. That is what is wrong with "just say no" programs. Saying no is great as long as there is something to say yes to. So, if the church is about tearing down walls, we also need to be about building something up.
But that something may be beyond our understanding. At least for now. Which means that we need to follow the lead of someone with vision. In the midst of our renovation project, I was grumbling, I was uncertain, I was longing for what had been. Now that it is done, I have said to my wife, you were right. It is beautiful. I couldn’t see it, but she could. Her vision was enough. I was just a part of the process.
Ephesians says that we are the building materials. The vision is Christ’s. And we learn to trust in that vision, and those who lead us in it. Even when we can’t see it. We are being built into the structure that is the temple, is the dwelling place of God. We are being built into the facility that will allow anyone and everyone to see - not us - but the God who uses us as building materials. We set our handicaps, we set our preferences aside for the larger vision of the church.
We are in process. We’ve got to do something about the church. Roll up your sleeves.
Shalom,
Derek
Construction can be an unsettling process. I don’t know about you, but I am tired of figuring out how to get to the church around the Getz Road construction that was supposed to take two weeks and is now finishing three with no visible end in sight. On the one hand we are glad things are being done, but sometimes we wonder if it is worth the struggle to get it done. Sometimes we wonder if we wouldn’t be better off just putting up with something less than ideal so that we don’t have to deal with the change. And the change and the changing can be difficult. We aren’t always sure of the new thing that is coming, will it be better than what we had or not?
Personally, I like carpet. Wood floors or wood laminate floors just don’t have the coziness that I like. So, the change might not be what I really want. Let alone the upset and the effort and the deprivation (I had to put away my big TV and my Laz-y-boy chair for the duration and watch in the basement on camp chairs! Oh, the humanity!).
OK, enough whining, for the moment anyway. We all know that change is difficult. We all know that building something, even something of value is a complicated, sometimes frustrating process - often enough to make us question along the way whether the effort is worth it. But what does it have to do with our scripture and the fourth statement of the Creed?
What is that fourth statement? I believe in "the holy catholic Church." Ah, the church. That explains it. Doesn’t it? Since church is about change. Church is about building, isn’t it? Not a building, but building - the verb not the noun. Not everyone would agree. Especially on the change issue. Some folks want to focus on the stability, on the constancy of church. We want something to count on being the same, now and always. It was good when I was kid, why should it change now? Let’s just let things be, some would argue. Why stir it all up?
What is the church for? Stability or change? Constancy or growth? Holding fast or building up? Here’s what our passage for the week says:
Ephesians 2:11-22 So then, remember that at one time you Gentiles by birth, called "the uncircumcision" by those who are called "the circumcision"-- a physical circumcision made in the flesh by human hands-- 12 remember that you were at that time without Christ, being aliens from the commonwealth of Israel, and strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world. 13 But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. 14 For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us. 15 He has abolished the law with its commandments and ordinances, that he might create in himself one new humanity in place of the two, thus making peace, 16 and might reconcile both groups to God in one body through the cross, thus putting to death that hostility through it. 17 So he came and proclaimed peace to you who were far off and peace to those who were near; 18 for through him both of us have access in one Spirit to the Father. 19 So then you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of
God, 20 built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the cornerstone. 21 In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; 22 in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.
Some of you may be feeling set up. Sort of like I was with the innocent comment about the carpet. You might be thinking I could have chosen a different passage, one that was so obvious in making the point. But, truth be told, it is hard to find a passage about the church that isn’t about building, about change. That is what the New Testament presents. The church is not designed to be a place to go and hide, or go and sit. The church is not a refuge from the world, a bolt hole to go wait out the changes out there. It is a place of transformation. It is a place of healing, but not for healing’s sake. You are healed so that you can continue the mission of the church. It is a place of learning and growing, of serving and building.
Paul writes (I know there is some debate in biblical scholarship circles whether Paul actually wrote Ephesians - but I’m just skipping over that discussion for now. Send me an email if you want to have that debate!) that the church is about demolition and construction. Doesn’t sound very complacent to me.
The first order of business is tearing down the walls that divide us. I know, I know, according to verse 14, Christ is the one who tore down the wall. And that is certainly true. That which divides us, that which makes one better than another, that which singles out for inclusion or exclusion was destroyed by the life and death and resurrection of Jesus the Christ. The paradox is that though those walls were torn down, we keep putting them back up. Yes, we can and should claim the freedom in Christ to see all people as part of the family - beloved as we are. But we would have to be blind to not see that those dividing walls of hostility are still there. Which means that the body of Christ must be in the demolition business. We’ve got to stand alongside Christ to tear those walls down again. And again. And again. It is a never ending task, to be honest. It is also a sobering one when we realize that some of those walls have our fingerprints on them. Some of those walls exist within us as we seek to identify those who we would include and those we would exclude from our own circles. So a part of what has to change is our own propensity to erect walls of division.
If we’ve learned anything it is that deconstruction without construction is a fruitless exercise. Something will come along to fill the hole we have created, and it just might be worse. That is what is wrong with "just say no" programs. Saying no is great as long as there is something to say yes to. So, if the church is about tearing down walls, we also need to be about building something up.
But that something may be beyond our understanding. At least for now. Which means that we need to follow the lead of someone with vision. In the midst of our renovation project, I was grumbling, I was uncertain, I was longing for what had been. Now that it is done, I have said to my wife, you were right. It is beautiful. I couldn’t see it, but she could. Her vision was enough. I was just a part of the process.
Ephesians says that we are the building materials. The vision is Christ’s. And we learn to trust in that vision, and those who lead us in it. Even when we can’t see it. We are being built into the structure that is the temple, is the dwelling place of God. We are being built into the facility that will allow anyone and everyone to see - not us - but the God who uses us as building materials. We set our handicaps, we set our preferences aside for the larger vision of the church.
We are in process. We’ve got to do something about the church. Roll up your sleeves.
Shalom,
Derek
Who You Gonna Call?
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." Wow, a Shakespeare quote right out of the box. Pretty impressive don’t you think? This is a line from Hamlet, one of Shakespeare’s most quoted plays. But it is also a play that has a ghost as a main character. There is something, well, if not rotten, then just a bit strange in Shakespeare’s Denmark.
It is interesting to me how many supernatural sorts of television programs and movies there are these days. Pushing Daisies, and Supernatural, and Ghost Town, and on and on. And I’ve been a Science Fiction and Fantasy reader from my childhood, so I love this fictionalized exploration into the unknown. But what about our real world heaven and earth? Are there more things than we have dreamt about? Depends on how well you dream, I suppose.
Well, before I get too far off the track, let me declare the subject for this week’s Bible study and sermon. We are on the third statement of the Apostles’ Creed in our Credo series. "I believe in the Holy Spirit." That’s our content, that is the object of our study. We are going to dissect the Holy Spirit. Umm. We are going to try and pin down... We are going to try to define ... OK, we are going to amble around the subject of the Holy Spirit for a while and see what comes out.
The first thing that we note from the creed is how bald the statement is. We don’t have any subordinate clauses to flesh out this word about the Spirit. We don’t have any external references that will locate us in time or space. We don’t have any descriptive adjectives that will give us handles on the Spirit. It is like grasping the wind, like catching our breath. Like capturing a ghost.
Every now and then you see an older version of the creed and notice that it talks about the Holy Ghost. When I was younger, I thought that the Holy Ghost must be like Casper, the Friendly Ghost. But holier. Actually, I had no idea what it might be like. But certainly not the scary kind of ghost. Something good. Something useful. Something... that was just a little bit more than nothing.
Most of us don’t spend a lot of time thinking about the Spirit. We are a bit skeptical of those who go overboard on the whole subject. They strike us as odd, as unnatural. And we don’t want anything to do with that sort of thing. We don’t want to lost control like that.
This might be a big part of the issue with the Spirit, who’s in control? Jesus tells us the Spirit is like the wind, you don’t know where it comes from or where it is going. It is just there. Or not there. Out of our control. Which makes it even harder to grasp. And makes us less likely to seek the Spirit when we need it. Or Him. Or Her. Or whatever.
So, what is it that Spirit is supposed to do for us? If we believe in the Spirit, then we ought to understand at least a little, don’t you think? Well, this is what Jesus told us the Spirit was all about during what has come to be called the Farewell Discourse in the Gospel of John. Take a look.
John 14:15-27 "If you love me, you will keep my commandments. 16 And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. 17 This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you. 18 "I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. 19 In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. 20 On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. 21 They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them." 22 Judas (not Iscariot) said to him, "Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?" 23 Jesus answered him, "Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. 24 Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me. 25 "I have said these things to you while I am still with you. 26 But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. 27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.
There is a lot that we don’t know about the Spirit, no question about that. But if we listen carefully to what Jesus tells us here there is a lot that we do know. Or can believe in anyway.
First of all, we can know, or believe that access to or awareness of the Spirit is a function of faith. It involves a relationship with Jesus Christ. "The world," John quotes, "cannot receive" the Spirit. The world doesn’t know the Spirit. Not because they aren’t worthy, but simply because they don’t have this relationship of love that opens the door to the experience of the Spirit. Oh, it is possible to have an experience of God without a relationship with Jesus the Christ. But to know and be known by the Spirit takes something deeper, an act of will, an offering of self to the Lordship of Christ. "I will not leave you orphaned" says Jesus. I will not leave you Fatherless, out of touch with the Father. There is a connection, a link to the Father that once came from the person of Jesus and now comes through the Spirit.
The function of the Spirit, according to Jesus in verse 26 is to teach and to remind. This Advocate (which is the Greek word "paraklete" and is sometimes translated Helper, or Comforter, or Counselor) is that abiding presence which connects to our sense of who we are. We are reminded of what we already know. We are reminded of the teachings that we learned as children but may have forgotten. Or chose to set aside for a time. It is the Spirit that comes and whispers in our ears to remind us that we are better than we sometimes behave. It is the Spirit that comes to remind us even in the darkest of nights that we are not alone. It is the Spirit that reminds us that we are loved - especially in those moments when we feel most unlovable.
It is not just what we already know that is recalled by the prompting of the Spirit. We are pushed further, we are asked to climb higher. The Spirit also teaches, calling us to new levels of understanding and experience. The Spirit works with our spirits to claim deeper truths and new applications, we are stretched beyond our childhood faith as we grow and learn and live into the realm of the Spirit. We have much to learn under the tutelage of the Spirit.
Which brings us back to the question implied in the title of this essay. I know the reference is from a film that is about ridding us of the supernatural. But here I guess I claim it for the opposite. When we wonder who we are or whose we are, who you gonna call? When we need a reminder of what we know to be true, who you gonna call? When we need a boost, to learn more, to be more, who you gonna call.
I believe in the Holy Spirit
Shalom,
Derek
It is interesting to me how many supernatural sorts of television programs and movies there are these days. Pushing Daisies, and Supernatural, and Ghost Town, and on and on. And I’ve been a Science Fiction and Fantasy reader from my childhood, so I love this fictionalized exploration into the unknown. But what about our real world heaven and earth? Are there more things than we have dreamt about? Depends on how well you dream, I suppose.
Well, before I get too far off the track, let me declare the subject for this week’s Bible study and sermon. We are on the third statement of the Apostles’ Creed in our Credo series. "I believe in the Holy Spirit." That’s our content, that is the object of our study. We are going to dissect the Holy Spirit. Umm. We are going to try and pin down... We are going to try to define ... OK, we are going to amble around the subject of the Holy Spirit for a while and see what comes out.
The first thing that we note from the creed is how bald the statement is. We don’t have any subordinate clauses to flesh out this word about the Spirit. We don’t have any external references that will locate us in time or space. We don’t have any descriptive adjectives that will give us handles on the Spirit. It is like grasping the wind, like catching our breath. Like capturing a ghost.
Every now and then you see an older version of the creed and notice that it talks about the Holy Ghost. When I was younger, I thought that the Holy Ghost must be like Casper, the Friendly Ghost. But holier. Actually, I had no idea what it might be like. But certainly not the scary kind of ghost. Something good. Something useful. Something... that was just a little bit more than nothing.
Most of us don’t spend a lot of time thinking about the Spirit. We are a bit skeptical of those who go overboard on the whole subject. They strike us as odd, as unnatural. And we don’t want anything to do with that sort of thing. We don’t want to lost control like that.
This might be a big part of the issue with the Spirit, who’s in control? Jesus tells us the Spirit is like the wind, you don’t know where it comes from or where it is going. It is just there. Or not there. Out of our control. Which makes it even harder to grasp. And makes us less likely to seek the Spirit when we need it. Or Him. Or Her. Or whatever.
So, what is it that Spirit is supposed to do for us? If we believe in the Spirit, then we ought to understand at least a little, don’t you think? Well, this is what Jesus told us the Spirit was all about during what has come to be called the Farewell Discourse in the Gospel of John. Take a look.
John 14:15-27 "If you love me, you will keep my commandments. 16 And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. 17 This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you. 18 "I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. 19 In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. 20 On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. 21 They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them." 22 Judas (not Iscariot) said to him, "Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?" 23 Jesus answered him, "Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. 24 Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me. 25 "I have said these things to you while I am still with you. 26 But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. 27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.
There is a lot that we don’t know about the Spirit, no question about that. But if we listen carefully to what Jesus tells us here there is a lot that we do know. Or can believe in anyway.
First of all, we can know, or believe that access to or awareness of the Spirit is a function of faith. It involves a relationship with Jesus Christ. "The world," John quotes, "cannot receive" the Spirit. The world doesn’t know the Spirit. Not because they aren’t worthy, but simply because they don’t have this relationship of love that opens the door to the experience of the Spirit. Oh, it is possible to have an experience of God without a relationship with Jesus the Christ. But to know and be known by the Spirit takes something deeper, an act of will, an offering of self to the Lordship of Christ. "I will not leave you orphaned" says Jesus. I will not leave you Fatherless, out of touch with the Father. There is a connection, a link to the Father that once came from the person of Jesus and now comes through the Spirit.
The function of the Spirit, according to Jesus in verse 26 is to teach and to remind. This Advocate (which is the Greek word "paraklete" and is sometimes translated Helper, or Comforter, or Counselor) is that abiding presence which connects to our sense of who we are. We are reminded of what we already know. We are reminded of the teachings that we learned as children but may have forgotten. Or chose to set aside for a time. It is the Spirit that comes and whispers in our ears to remind us that we are better than we sometimes behave. It is the Spirit that comes to remind us even in the darkest of nights that we are not alone. It is the Spirit that reminds us that we are loved - especially in those moments when we feel most unlovable.
It is not just what we already know that is recalled by the prompting of the Spirit. We are pushed further, we are asked to climb higher. The Spirit also teaches, calling us to new levels of understanding and experience. The Spirit works with our spirits to claim deeper truths and new applications, we are stretched beyond our childhood faith as we grow and learn and live into the realm of the Spirit. We have much to learn under the tutelage of the Spirit.
Which brings us back to the question implied in the title of this essay. I know the reference is from a film that is about ridding us of the supernatural. But here I guess I claim it for the opposite. When we wonder who we are or whose we are, who you gonna call? When we need a reminder of what we know to be true, who you gonna call? When we need a boost, to learn more, to be more, who you gonna call.
I believe in the Holy Spirit
Shalom,
Derek
That Jesus Thing
Bishop William Willimon tells of meeting with a young couple while he was Dean of the Chapel at Duke University. They came to talk about marriage. They were in love and therefore sure that any barriers could be overcome. But their parents weren’t so sure. See, he was a devout practicing Jew, she was a Christian. True to her culture the young woman spoke, with some exasperation, "but surely there isn’t any real difference in what we believe. Is there? Except for that Jesus thing."
Ah yes, that Jesus thing. In one sense it is such a small thing. Such a one off thing. A minor point in a complex theology. A single figure in a rich history full of amazing people. What is one person more or less in that line?
Of course, we could argue that this one person was a pretty special person. Wise beyond description, brave in amazing ways, uniquely self-sacrificing, and loving in ways we would dream of being. But a person, exemplary, but a person.
And we would be right. Yet wrong at the same time. This is why the Jesus thing is so difficult to comprehend. There is always a "yes, but" when it comes to Jesus. Or maybe it is a "yes, and." Words fail us in the end. Words capture pieces and pictures, but not the whole of that Jesus thing. Even the creeds wrestle with a description of Jesus. The longest part of the ancient creeds is devoted to Jesus. Not simply because they had a lot to say about him, but because there was always more.
The Apostles’ Creed says : And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord: who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; the third day he rose from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.
Whew. You have to draw a breath after the Jesus thing. But if you think this is something, check out what the Nicene Creed does: We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one Being with the Father. Through him all things were made. For us and for our salvation he came down from heaven: by the power of the Holy Spirit he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary, and was made man. For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered death and was buried. On the third day he rose again in accordance with the Scriptures; he ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.
They wanted to try and define him, they wanted to comprehend him, they wanted to nail him down. But they should have learned from the first attempt to nail him down. This Jesus thing defies definition. This Jesus thing is beyond our comprehension. He defies our attempts to categorize him. Simply because once we have him figured out, then we wouldn’t need him any more. This Jesus thing would become one more thing that we have conquered, one more thing that we have figured out and then left to the side as we move on to other puzzles to solve or other mountains to climb.
So, what is left? We need some handles on the Jesus thing, don’t we? We need some way of grasping, of clinging, even if we don’t have full comprehension. Without a place to grab onto, then Jesus becomes another of those incomprehensible realities like black holes and quantum physics that wrinkle our brows but don’t really impact our lives.
What’s left is poetry. At least that is John’s response. When explanation fails, go for poetry. Or for music. Our text for this week is a song of praise to the nature of Christ. It is a theological doxology. Well, what would you call it?
John 1:1-18 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being 4 in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. 5The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. 6 There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. 7 He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. 8 He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. 9 The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. 10 He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. 11 He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. 12 But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, 13 who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. 14And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth. 15 (John testified to him and cried out, "This was he of whom I said, 'He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.'") 16 From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. 17 The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. 18 No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father's heart, who has made him known.
We could, of course, analyze these words to wring out every thought. That would be a way of approaching understanding. And there are a few things I want us to notice together. But in the end it is the power of the words that speak most profoundly. Or if not power, then beauty. There is something here in this Jesus thing that catches our breath when we gaze at it. There is something that makes our hearts pound and tears come to our eyes. It may be unexplainable, but it speaks clearly to the deepest longings of our soul.
In this hymn that John has written we discover that it is about us as much as it is about Jesus. Yes, it adds a layer of eternity to the man from Nazareth. And it wrestles with that thorny doctrine called Trinity. (Is He Son or is He God, separate or the same - or somehow both?)
But when the song begins to include us, we move to the edge of our seats. When John sings of the life that is the light of all people, we hold our breath because we have both seen and touched it and have wept for the lack of it. We lean forward toward that light, like a plant seeking sustenance from the sun. We have beheld that glory. And we have known him not. We are both - acceptors and deniers - often at the same time. Too good to be true, we find ourselves saying. Too good not to be true, we hope.
We have tasted, we have received grace upon grace, and sometimes it is enough. Other times we wrestle with the world, with our doubts, with our sin. We do lose our grip from time to time. And we wonder what it is all about. We wonder if it is worth the struggle, the misunderstanding. Don’t we all believe the same thing in the end? Wouldn’t the world be better if we just stopped worrying about what it is that we believe? Couldn’t we give in a little bit on that Jesus thing?
That Jesus thing, according to John, is nothing less than life itself. Life in all its fulness. Life it all its depth and meaning. Life as we long to live it. We can’t be who we are, or who we long to be without that Jesus thing.
Shalom,
Derek C. Weber
Ah yes, that Jesus thing. In one sense it is such a small thing. Such a one off thing. A minor point in a complex theology. A single figure in a rich history full of amazing people. What is one person more or less in that line?
Of course, we could argue that this one person was a pretty special person. Wise beyond description, brave in amazing ways, uniquely self-sacrificing, and loving in ways we would dream of being. But a person, exemplary, but a person.
And we would be right. Yet wrong at the same time. This is why the Jesus thing is so difficult to comprehend. There is always a "yes, but" when it comes to Jesus. Or maybe it is a "yes, and." Words fail us in the end. Words capture pieces and pictures, but not the whole of that Jesus thing. Even the creeds wrestle with a description of Jesus. The longest part of the ancient creeds is devoted to Jesus. Not simply because they had a lot to say about him, but because there was always more.
The Apostles’ Creed says : And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord: who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; the third day he rose from the dead; he ascended into heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty; from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead.
Whew. You have to draw a breath after the Jesus thing. But if you think this is something, check out what the Nicene Creed does: We believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, eternally begotten of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, of one Being with the Father. Through him all things were made. For us and for our salvation he came down from heaven: by the power of the Holy Spirit he became incarnate from the Virgin Mary, and was made man. For our sake he was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered death and was buried. On the third day he rose again in accordance with the Scriptures; he ascended into heaven and is seated at the right hand of the Father. He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead, and his kingdom will have no end.
They wanted to try and define him, they wanted to comprehend him, they wanted to nail him down. But they should have learned from the first attempt to nail him down. This Jesus thing defies definition. This Jesus thing is beyond our comprehension. He defies our attempts to categorize him. Simply because once we have him figured out, then we wouldn’t need him any more. This Jesus thing would become one more thing that we have conquered, one more thing that we have figured out and then left to the side as we move on to other puzzles to solve or other mountains to climb.
So, what is left? We need some handles on the Jesus thing, don’t we? We need some way of grasping, of clinging, even if we don’t have full comprehension. Without a place to grab onto, then Jesus becomes another of those incomprehensible realities like black holes and quantum physics that wrinkle our brows but don’t really impact our lives.
What’s left is poetry. At least that is John’s response. When explanation fails, go for poetry. Or for music. Our text for this week is a song of praise to the nature of Christ. It is a theological doxology. Well, what would you call it?
John 1:1-18 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being 4 in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. 5The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. 6 There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. 7 He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. 8 He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. 9 The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. 10 He was in the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not know him. 11 He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. 12 But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, 13 who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God. 14And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth. 15 (John testified to him and cried out, "This was he of whom I said, 'He who comes after me ranks ahead of me because he was before me.'") 16 From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace. 17 The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came through Jesus Christ. 18 No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is close to the Father's heart, who has made him known.
We could, of course, analyze these words to wring out every thought. That would be a way of approaching understanding. And there are a few things I want us to notice together. But in the end it is the power of the words that speak most profoundly. Or if not power, then beauty. There is something here in this Jesus thing that catches our breath when we gaze at it. There is something that makes our hearts pound and tears come to our eyes. It may be unexplainable, but it speaks clearly to the deepest longings of our soul.
In this hymn that John has written we discover that it is about us as much as it is about Jesus. Yes, it adds a layer of eternity to the man from Nazareth. And it wrestles with that thorny doctrine called Trinity. (Is He Son or is He God, separate or the same - or somehow both?)
But when the song begins to include us, we move to the edge of our seats. When John sings of the life that is the light of all people, we hold our breath because we have both seen and touched it and have wept for the lack of it. We lean forward toward that light, like a plant seeking sustenance from the sun. We have beheld that glory. And we have known him not. We are both - acceptors and deniers - often at the same time. Too good to be true, we find ourselves saying. Too good not to be true, we hope.
We have tasted, we have received grace upon grace, and sometimes it is enough. Other times we wrestle with the world, with our doubts, with our sin. We do lose our grip from time to time. And we wonder what it is all about. We wonder if it is worth the struggle, the misunderstanding. Don’t we all believe the same thing in the end? Wouldn’t the world be better if we just stopped worrying about what it is that we believe? Couldn’t we give in a little bit on that Jesus thing?
That Jesus thing, according to John, is nothing less than life itself. Life in all its fulness. Life it all its depth and meaning. Life as we long to live it. We can’t be who we are, or who we long to be without that Jesus thing.
Shalom,
Derek C. Weber
Monday, September 8, 2008
Search Me
I don’t even know if we say that any more. "Search me!" Shows you how far out of coolness I am these days. Ah, well. But, I remember saying it all the time. Search me. It has probably been replaced by the ubiquitous "whatever" by now. Search me.
It was a "I don’t know" kind of thing. It was an admission of ignorance, and maybe of complacency. Search me. It refers to what we don’t know. We are starting a two month study on the Apostles’ Creed this weekend. I know, it seems like a long time. But others divide the Creed into twelve statements - so it could have been worse!
I’m just going with nine articles of faith. And this week we start with the beginning of the Creed. I believe in God the Father, Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth. So, we are looking at God. Better yet we are studying God, we are analyzing God, we are, in short, doing theology. Cool. What do you know about God? What do you think about God? What do you believe about God? Search me.
One of the problems the church has these days, I think, is that we are no longer sure what we believe. We want to move beyond a childish faith, and we want to incorporate all that human beings have learned about how the world works - and how we work - and yet we keep being told that what we’ve learned about the world can’t fit into what we believe about God. They don’t match, the bump up against each other and something has got to go. Unfortunately, for most of us, what has gone is diligent theological thought. Which isn’t the same as saying we’ve lost our faith. We just don’t think about it all that much any more. We can’t make it work, so we don’t bother. What do you believe about God? Search me. That’s what many have come to these days. It is just easier. Search me.
Of course, search me is also used in another way. The way that Psalm 139 uses it. And maybe it is that searching, or the acknowledgment of God’s searching that might help us reclaim our faith as a reasonable part of our existence. Faith can be reasonable? Does that make sense? Search me.
No, wait. I didn’t mean that. Of course it can. And our examination of the Creed just might help us make it so. Luke Timothy Johnson, biblical scholar, presents in his book called simply The Creed that faith as an existential response of the whole person characterized by trust, obedience and loyalty (faith is what we do not simply what we think), but that he "has come to appreciate how critical the role of belief is in structuring that response." In other words, if faith is about doing, our doing has t be driven by our believing. And the church is the "gathering of those committed by faith to a radical response to God." But that response, Johnson argues, grows out of a communal sense of identity that is hard to grow without something like a creed.
The Creed, then is that statement of belief that defines us as a community of faith. It identifies us for ourselves and for the world at large. We are the people who believe ... And because we believe we live, we serve, we act, we love.
The guiding scripture for this first statement from the Creed is Psalm 139. The problem with starting with the doctrine of God is that it is, in the end, too large a subject to grasp in its entirety. Every statement, every image, every description about God is only a part of the whole. And the whole is beyond our reach. Which is exactly what the Psalmist says. Take a look:
Psalm 139:1-18 O LORD, you have searched me and known me. 2 You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. 3 You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. 4 Even before a word is on my tongue, O LORD, you know it completely. 5 You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. 6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it. 7 Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? 8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. 9 If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, 10 even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast. 11 If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night," 12 even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you. 13 For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother's womb. 14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well. 15 My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. 16 Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed. 17 How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! 18 I try to count them-- they are more than the sand; I come to the end-- I am still with you.
The Psalm ends with an admission that knowing all of God is beyond us. But it begins with the affirmation that being known by God is the nature of the relationship. In fact the essence of the Psalm is the declaration that the only knowledge of God accessible is in relationship.
The Creed reminds us that we call God Father. This is not to reduce God to a human role, but to lift humans by acknowledging that the parenting role is a part of the divine. So, whether we are father or mother, whether we care for birth children or adopted children or children baptized into the family of God, we reflect an aspect of God. We believe that God cares and so we do too.
The Creed also reminds us that God is creator, and that all of creation has a single point of origin. However we understand that creation to have taken place, we worship God as creator of all there is. We can argue methodology, and we do, but there need be no conflict with the article of faith that claims God as creator.
The Creed echoes the Psalm with a single word - Almighty. What does that mean? Search me. No, wait. It means that there is more to God than I can grasp with my understanding. It means that I trust in the power of God even when I can’t sense it. It means I believe in the power of God even when it seems God has lost a grip on the world God created. It means I will spend my days seeking evidence of that power and that presence with confidence and with hope.
O Lord, you have searched me, and known me. Let me in my own small way return the favor
Shalom,
Derek
It was a "I don’t know" kind of thing. It was an admission of ignorance, and maybe of complacency. Search me. It refers to what we don’t know. We are starting a two month study on the Apostles’ Creed this weekend. I know, it seems like a long time. But others divide the Creed into twelve statements - so it could have been worse!
I’m just going with nine articles of faith. And this week we start with the beginning of the Creed. I believe in God the Father, Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth. So, we are looking at God. Better yet we are studying God, we are analyzing God, we are, in short, doing theology. Cool. What do you know about God? What do you think about God? What do you believe about God? Search me.
One of the problems the church has these days, I think, is that we are no longer sure what we believe. We want to move beyond a childish faith, and we want to incorporate all that human beings have learned about how the world works - and how we work - and yet we keep being told that what we’ve learned about the world can’t fit into what we believe about God. They don’t match, the bump up against each other and something has got to go. Unfortunately, for most of us, what has gone is diligent theological thought. Which isn’t the same as saying we’ve lost our faith. We just don’t think about it all that much any more. We can’t make it work, so we don’t bother. What do you believe about God? Search me. That’s what many have come to these days. It is just easier. Search me.
Of course, search me is also used in another way. The way that Psalm 139 uses it. And maybe it is that searching, or the acknowledgment of God’s searching that might help us reclaim our faith as a reasonable part of our existence. Faith can be reasonable? Does that make sense? Search me.
No, wait. I didn’t mean that. Of course it can. And our examination of the Creed just might help us make it so. Luke Timothy Johnson, biblical scholar, presents in his book called simply The Creed that faith as an existential response of the whole person characterized by trust, obedience and loyalty (faith is what we do not simply what we think), but that he "has come to appreciate how critical the role of belief is in structuring that response." In other words, if faith is about doing, our doing has t be driven by our believing. And the church is the "gathering of those committed by faith to a radical response to God." But that response, Johnson argues, grows out of a communal sense of identity that is hard to grow without something like a creed.
The Creed, then is that statement of belief that defines us as a community of faith. It identifies us for ourselves and for the world at large. We are the people who believe ... And because we believe we live, we serve, we act, we love.
The guiding scripture for this first statement from the Creed is Psalm 139. The problem with starting with the doctrine of God is that it is, in the end, too large a subject to grasp in its entirety. Every statement, every image, every description about God is only a part of the whole. And the whole is beyond our reach. Which is exactly what the Psalmist says. Take a look:
Psalm 139:1-18 O LORD, you have searched me and known me. 2 You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from far away. 3 You search out my path and my lying down, and are acquainted with all my ways. 4 Even before a word is on my tongue, O LORD, you know it completely. 5 You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. 6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is so high that I cannot attain it. 7 Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence? 8 If I ascend to heaven, you are there; if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there. 9 If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, 10 even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast. 11 If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night," 12 even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as the day, for darkness is as light to you. 13 For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother's womb. 14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; that I know very well. 15 My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. 16 Your eyes beheld my unformed substance. In your book were written all the days that were formed for me, when none of them as yet existed. 17 How weighty to me are your thoughts, O God! How vast is the sum of them! 18 I try to count them-- they are more than the sand; I come to the end-- I am still with you.
The Psalm ends with an admission that knowing all of God is beyond us. But it begins with the affirmation that being known by God is the nature of the relationship. In fact the essence of the Psalm is the declaration that the only knowledge of God accessible is in relationship.
The Creed reminds us that we call God Father. This is not to reduce God to a human role, but to lift humans by acknowledging that the parenting role is a part of the divine. So, whether we are father or mother, whether we care for birth children or adopted children or children baptized into the family of God, we reflect an aspect of God. We believe that God cares and so we do too.
The Creed also reminds us that God is creator, and that all of creation has a single point of origin. However we understand that creation to have taken place, we worship God as creator of all there is. We can argue methodology, and we do, but there need be no conflict with the article of faith that claims God as creator.
The Creed echoes the Psalm with a single word - Almighty. What does that mean? Search me. No, wait. It means that there is more to God than I can grasp with my understanding. It means that I trust in the power of God even when I can’t sense it. It means I believe in the power of God even when it seems God has lost a grip on the world God created. It means I will spend my days seeking evidence of that power and that presence with confidence and with hope.
O Lord, you have searched me, and known me. Let me in my own small way return the favor
Shalom,
Derek
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