Chapter 4: How to Treat a Snake

Truesdale says, “The transition from instrument to idol is subtle and deadly. Usually, we don’t see it coming” (58). Those words form the foundation of this chapter about Hezekiah and his on religious reform. Often, though, religious reform becomes difficult and painful. It sometimes requires changes that folks aren’t willing to make. And sometimes it requires changes that are so radical that it seems like something essential is being destroyed.

In this chapter, from the perspective of a successful businessman, we can see one such radical call to change that Hezekiah intends to bring about. He was going to destroy an idol. But not a pagan idol of Baal or Asherah, this was something from their past given to them by Yahweh. And the people weren’t happy about it. In their mind, Hezekiah intention was “to disrupt our sacred past, to destroy something essential for our worship of Yahweh” (63). By destroying the bronze serpent Moses fashioned in the Wilderness wandering, Hezekiah was destroying “an irreplaceable reminder of God’s presence and guidance, a sure sign of his salvation” (64). But Hezekiah tells the people that the bronze serpent is at the center of their transgression (66), that they had turned “what was supposed to be a transparent sign [into] a concrete idol” (67).

Once again it seems the meaning is ostensible for the church today, poignantly reflected in the cracks of division that appear along pressure points where past and future converge in the struggle for new and germane meaning. Too easily we can turn transparent signs into concrete idols. Think about some of those things from our “sacred past” that have been for us signs of God’s salvation. Now think about the ways we tend to turn those signs into objects of worship.

Chapter 3: Worship or Manipulation

Chapter 3 invites us into the courtroom scene that takes place in the book of Micah. God brings charges against Israel. They had forsaken the covenant. They had forgotten what it means to be the people of God. Their worship had become self-seeking, a tool to “put God in an agreeable and rewarding frame of mind” (48). Al Truesdale points out that “The commandment not to take the name of the Lord in vain (Exod. 20:7) is a warning against using God’s name for contrived human purposes” (48). A danger in any age.

A couple of key charges God makes against Israel stand out for me. The first is that they have forgotten what it means to be his people (54). I think this is a crucial failure. Understanding what it means to be God’s people can drastically change how we understand what it is to be the church as well as redefining the mission of the church.

The second key charge is that Israel and Judah had failed to “connect worship with love for neighbor” (55). It is somewhat ironic to me that the idea of “worship wars” is even an issue within the church, let alone that it can become so divisive, causing such inimical behavior among those who call themselves family. Perhaps if we could make the connection between worship and love for neighbor, our worship could become truly transformational.

Finally, God asks, “Why do you boast of your religious zeal, when your lives contradict my character?” (56). I suppose this charge sums up the others. Religion, worship, being the church, they are all supposed to reflect God’s character. It’s not a matter of cognitive assent to a particular set of propositions. It’s not a matter of doing this and not doing that. It’s not a matter of which church we go to. It’s simply a matter of as a body of believers, do we reflect God’s character (and it is significant to remember that this is not about individuals, but about communities. We can only be the people of God with others, never as individuals or even as a collection of individuals, only as community.).

So what does God expect? What does it mean to be the people of God, to connect worship with love for neighbor, to reflect God’s character? The answer God gives is startling. God says, “I want you to practice justice, show my kindness of love to others, and walk before me in genuine humility” (57).

Chapter 2: The Baal of Mechanical Piety

In this chapter Al Truesdale brings the prophet Amos into the story of Israel’s seduction to false worship. The focus is on an outward, “mechanical piety.” And the sort of mindset that understand worship as something to placate God and gain a reward. Indeed, in this chapter we see clearly how the Northern Kingdom saw their social, political, and economic prosperity as evidence that God was rewarding their impressive ritual of worship.

They seemed to be doing everything right: carefully nurturing the Mosaic tradition by “observing the great sacrificial ceremonies, feasts, and fasts;” teaching the people “the great convictions of Israel’s faith” (37); religion in the Northern kingdom was squeaky clean, not missing a thing. And the people were responding. Both centers of worship were full as people took their worship serious. From all outward appearances, God was responding favorably to the religion of the people.

But that’s when Amos shows up saying that they “completely misunderstood God’s special calling,” that “apart from covenantal faithfulness, election meant nothing” (40). And Israel had abandoned its responsibility to justice. They were “corrupted by opulence,” their greed was unchecked, they “trampled on the heads of the poor.” For all their attention to worship and religion, their “professed faithfulness to Yahweh did not translate into justice executed on behalf of the defenseless” (42). And so Amos declares that God hates and despises their feasts and solemn assemblies; their praise is little more than “hollow songs” (44). What God truly desires is that “justice [will] pour across the land like a flood, and righteousness [will] flow like and unending stream” (44).

I suppose, for me, the take-away thought in this chapter is that in every age we can allow our worship to become something perfunctory and mechanical. When it becomes an end in which we seek to ingratiate God in order to gain an advantage, the worshipers becomes elevated above the one who is worshiped. Control is wrestled from God, who becomes incidental as the worshiper assumes control.

I realize I’m probably opening a can of worms here, but as I read this chapter I couldn’t help but think about all the rhetoric I have heard (mostly from the “religious right”) about how the only way for America to return to its former prosperity is to regain its former practices of worship. I couldn’t help but wonder if this isn’t exactly where the Northern kingdom was coming from.

Chapter One: The Troubler

Chapter one recounts that very familiar story from 1 Kings 18 when Elijah confronts the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel. The unique feature of this chapter, though, is the walk with Jubal. Jubal is a (fictitious) 9th century BC farmer from the Northern Kingdom. What makes this walk with Jubal unique is listening to his explanation of why this showdown is so important, and why the Northern Kingdom has found it so easy to worship both Yahweh and Baal. I think I would like to highlight two aspects from this chapter. The first is why worship Baal. And the second is the idea of compartments.

In this chapter, Al Truesdale did a good job showing us that the worship of Baal was not due to the fact that the people were backward and ignorant. Nor were they simply perverted in the lust. We need to remember that all myths (and by myth I do not mean false) about local deities are in their essence a way of explaining the workings of the world. Today we seem to think that because of the elevation of reason during the Enlightenment, and the proliferation of science and scientific discoveries, that we have the tools to really understand how things work. But in reality, our science functions in exactly the same way as did the myths that informed the people back in Elijah’s day. Baal was the best science of the day. It explained how the world worked. And besides that, up until this point, it was effective.

There is something anachronistically arrogant when we dismiss these myths as stupid. Of course, that doesn’t make them right or okay for the people of God, because God told them not to have any other God and not to worship anything or anyone but Yahweh. They knew better, not because they had better science or more intelligence, but because God told them. We are told that it really wasn’t a problem because “it is all matter of respecting boundaries. Some parts of life belong to Yahweh, and some to Baal” (27).

It seems to me that this is the open door that invites idolatry. Whenever we allow our lives to be divided into compartments where God either plays no role or that role is held to a minimum, an idol of some sort will always come around to fill that space. One of the most telling ideas in this chapter for me was when our companion Jubal tells us that Yahweh is the God of power and deliverance, the miracle-working God of the desert. “But that has little to do with the everyday affairs of life such as receiving rain, growing grapes, and paying bills” (27). Today we call that “being relevant.” It made me pause and wonder if the whole idea of being relevant has become an idol. I have a feeling it has.

Into the midst of all this comes the Troubler—Elijah. He tells the people that they cannot have compartments. Yahweh is not a God with boundaries. He gathers everyone on together on Mount Carmel and a showdown. We know what happens. Fire falls, consuming Elijah’s offering. Yahweh is God, Yahweh alone.

I guess the question for me is twofold. Where have I created boundaries/compartments? And where have I allowed the myths of our world to infringe on my exclusive worship of God?

The Scheme

Today I’m just going to look at the introduction, or what the author calls “The Scheme.” Here he sets out the basic premise behind the book: “If Satan can get us to insert inferior interests and motives into our worship, then the Conspiracy will accomplish its goal” (10). And, in short, its goal is to defeat God (10). In order to accomplish this, it “plays upon our blind spots. All of us are vulnerable” (10).

Of course, one has to wonder: can God be defeated? And I suppose that would depend on how you view God and God’s providence. Perhaps another way to say this is: Can God’s will be thwarted, or does God always get God’s way? Or to narrow it down even more: Do humans really have free choice? Does creation have freedom to choose? If we answer that ‘yes,’ than God’s will can be thwarted, and in that sense God can be defeated. Think of it this way: every time someone chooses against God, God suffers a defeat. So in this way God can be defeated; and that is the goal, Truesdale says, of the Baal conspiracy. And “[t]o achieve its goal, it tries to enlist the people of God—those of us who sit in church on Sunday morning or Saturday night—as its agents” (10).

He brings us to Elijah, and how easily Israel became beguiled by the conspiracy. After all, it is what “passed for advanced agricultural science” of the day (12). It explained how things grew, why crops flourished. It helped farmers increase their yield, offering “the key for success in everyday life” (12). Seems innocent enough, but in fact it had a deleterious effect.

Truesdale purposes in the 10 chapters that make the body of the book to expose the nuances of this conspiracy and how subtle it finds its way into the church. He will do so using a sort of historic fiction, bringing us into the lives of the people who made up the events of the Old Testament.

What I would really like to emphasis, though, is his “Word of caution.” We can either read these chapters with a fatuous confidence, noting how these words describe so well everyone else. Or we can read these words in a way that serves to examine our own lives, helping to drive out those furtive idols that linger in our own blind spots. Personally, I want to engage the book in this way and I hope you do as well.

READY, WILLING, AND ABLE

Don’t you think it’s interesting that the one thing the disciples wanted Jesus to teach them to do was to pray? They didn’t ask him to teach them to preach, though they must have heard him preach many, many times. They didn’t ask him to show them how to teach the crowds, though they had seen him instruct literally thousands of people. They didn’t ask him to teach them how to heal the sick or how to cast out demons, though they had seen him do so. No, the one thing they wanted to learn from Jesus was how to pray.
No doubt they had watched as he drew aside from the great crowds of people that gathered wherever he went. Usually it was early in the morning or late at night that he drew aside to find a secluded spot, a place to pray. And no doubt the disciples had sensed something very different both in the way Jesus prayed and the affects of his prayers. There must have been something starling, powerful, and even awesome that took place whenever Jesus prayed. For all the miracles and wonders they had seen in the time they spent with Jesus, it was his times of prayer that were to them the most significant. It was the time he spent alone with his Father that seemed to be the most impressive. And so they asked him “Lord Teach us to pray.”
You know, as I’ve thought about prayer and what this Scripture says about prayer, I think I’ve come to the conclusion that prayer greatly depends on two things. First, is the character of the one to whom we pray. And of course, as Christians we pray to the living and all powerful God whose essence and character is perfect love. So this first aspect of prayer is really beyond our control. But the second one isn’t. The second one is our understanding of the character of the one to whom we pray. It is how we see God, how we understand his nature. And I think this is what Jesus is getting at in this section of Luke. He’s helping us to understand God’s nature when it comes to prayer.
You see, God wants us to come to him. He tells us to “ask, seek, and knock.” He invites us to come to him through prayer and allow him to mend the hole in our lives… to fix what has become broken. Only God can do that. Only God can fill the void that is in our soul. Anything else is just an illusion... an illusion of peace… an illusion of happiness… an illusion of satisfaction. Unfortunately, though, illusions often create very real dangers.
We’ve all heard stories about the person lost in a desert who is dying of thirst. And as she claws her way across the sand, she sees reflected on a sand dune what looks like an oasis. It’s only a mirage; it’s not real. But the illusion is so intense and vivid because her need is so strong and so real that she actually tries to drink the sand.
Though most omit it from Luke’s version of this story, there are some manuscripts that have, “If a child asks for bread would you give him a stone.” The answer is, “Of course not.” But still, there are similarities between a loaf of bread and what a smooth, round stone may look like. And after all, wasn’t it the stones that Satan used to tempt Jesus to turn into bread in order to satisfy his hunger? There must be something in the appearance of bread and a smooth, desert stone that’s very similar. But there is also a big difference.
You see, one o f the dangers of living with illusions is that there is no satisfaction in it. The stone may look like bread, but it isn’t bread. And because it isn’t bread, the satisfaction it offers isn’t real. It’s an illusion that in the end leaves us feeling empty.
How many stories do we need to hear of the rich and the famous taking their own lives because they weren’t satisfied? They had everything—or at least everything this world could offer—and yet they were empty.
That’s because the things that the world offers to us are only stones, illusions, they’re not real. What we need is bread, not stones. Jesus said that he was the living bread that came down from heaven, and that those who partake of this bread shall never die. He said that he was the bread of life, and whoever comes to him shall never be hungry. Only Jesus is able to satisfy our deepest need.
I was once told by someone who grew up in Columbia that high in up in the mountains of that country, where the coca plant grew, the local villagers would chew on the leaves of that tree in order to ease their hunger pains. It is from those leave that the narcotic cocaine is derived. They would chew the leaves, usually with a bit of lime to increase the effectiveness to suppress their appetite. But it couldn’t satisfy the hunger, it could only mask it. And if the person didn’t eat, eventually they would die. The illusion couldn’t keep them alive; it could only hide the pain.
And so Luke’s main point comes with the questions: “If your child asks for a fish will [you] give a snake instead of a fish? Or if the child asks for an egg, will [you] give a scorpion?” And again the answer is, “Of course not.” Both the sting of a scorpion and the bight of a snake are serious, and both have the potential to kill. One of the very real dangers of an illusion is, not only does it not satisfy, but it is spiritually fatal as well.
Spiritual fatality comes when our focus is taken off of God and placed on this world and what this world can give. And once that separation takes place, we are in essence spiritually dead. The venom of illusion always seeks to kill that which would draw us to God. It always tries to keep us from turning to God. It prevents us from asking, seeking or knocking. It keeps us from prayer.
But when we do come to God in prayer we find that what God offers to us is not an illusion, but something very, very real. And not only is it not an illusion, but what God gives is always the very best. And it is always more than enough.
Just look at the story of the wedding feast in Canna. The wedding was in full swing when the host ran out of wine. In that time and culture, this would have been disastrous. But at the request of his mother, Jesus turned six water pots full of water into wine. And not just any cheap wine, but as the host of the party said, it was the best wine.
Or what about the little group of followers that was caught on the back side of the Sea of Galilee? It was late in the day, there was no McDonalds around, no 7-11, nothing… just desert. Jesus took the small sack lunch of a little boy and he fed five-thousand men and their families. Not only did they eat until they were full, but as the disciples cleaned up, they were able to fill twelve baskets with leftovers.
Or what about the time by the Sea of Galilee when Jesus told Simon to push out into deep water and throw down his net for a catch of fish? Simon obeyed and had such a catch that it started to break his nets. When he called for help they soon had both boats so full that they both began to sink.
And what about your own life? How many times can you look back and see the hand of God providing when there seemed to be no possible way? And isn’t it always the case that God’s provision in those times turns out to be the very best?
That brings us to God’s ultimate gift; God’s ultimate provision for us. Jesus says if we being evil know how to give good gifts to our children, “how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him?”
Now this is the ultimate gift. It is the gift that goes beyond our everyday need and reaches to our ultimate need—our need for God. What greater gift could God give than to give God’s self. That is what God has done on the cross. And that is what God continues to do through the Holy Spirit.
Humanity’s deepest desire has always been to find fulfillment and peace. But it’s a desire that can never be realized by anything we can have apart from God. “What benefit would it be if we could gain the world but in the end loose our soul?”
You see, that’s the point. Jesus said, “Peace I leave you; my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you.” The peace Jesus gives is one which the world can never know because it is a peace that originated in the heart of God. It is a peace that can never be realized apart from God, a peace that surpasses all understanding. It is a kenotic peace, one secured at Calvary.
Humanity’s need for fulfillment and peace can only be found in the self-giving God’s gift given through the cross. It is a gift we are called to imitate.
The apostle Paul says, “So then, brothers and sisters, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh—for if you live according to the flesh, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ—if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.”
We began with Jesus’ instruction to ask, seek, and knock. These three words carry a meaning far beyond a single event. You see, as Christians we are to continually ask, to always be seeking, and to never stop knocking. It is a call to an ever deepening relationship with God. It is a call to all Christians everywhere to look to God. It is a call to find our total and absolute contentment in Christ and Christ alone.
The cry to ask, seek, knock is also a plea. It is a plea to those who do not know God—to those who may know the name, but not the person of Jesus Christ. It is a plea to those who have been looking down the wrong paths for their happiness. It is God calling you home. It is God calling you to a personal relationship. But more than that, it is a promise. It is God’s promise that if you would ask, seek, and knock your Heavenly Father is ready willing and able to enter your life and make a difference.
Let’s pray:
Thank you gracious Father, for the invitation to ask, seek and knock. And thank you for your promise to always answering. Through Jesus Christ your son our lord who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit One God now and forever. Amen

Wednesday’s Text: Psalm 82

1 God has taken his place in the divine council;
in the midst of the gods he holds judgment:
2 “How long will you judge unjustly
and show partiality to the wicked? Selah
3 Give justice to the weak and the orphan;
maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute.
4 Rescue the weak and the needy;
deliver them from the hand of the wicked.”
5 They have neither knowledge nor understanding,
they walk around in darkness;
all the foundations of the earth are shaken.
6 I say, “You are gods,
children of the Most High, all of you;
7 nevertheless, you shall die like mortals,
and fall like any prince.”
8 Rise up, O God, judge the earth;
for all the nations belong to you!
(NRSV)

Once again Scripture cries out for social justice. Once more the people of God are judged on how well they live out mercy. I think sometimes we have a tendency to want to reduce what it means to be a Christian to something personal and epistemic (knowledge). Yet, Scripture seems to insist that it is more communal and existential (experience). To be a Christian means we act justly; it means we rescue the weak and the needy; it means we maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute. We do so not because of some moral or ethical imperative, but because it is who we are. In the world of the Bible, there is no separation between the sacred and the secular. The only forum available for us to live out our Christian experience, our life of holiness, is in this world. That’s one of the truly unique things about Christianity. Oh, certainly we have the hope of the resurrection, we have the hope of a new heaven and a new earth, but our primary focus is not other-worldly; it is here and now. How can we live out justice for the weak and the orphan? How can we maintain the right of the lowly and the destitute? How can we rescue the weak and the needy? How can we deliver them from the hand of the wicked? You see, it is on how well we live out God’s justice and mercy and love that we will be judged.

Monday’s Text: Luke 10.25-37

25 Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” 26 He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” 27 He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” 28 And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”
29 But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” 30 Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. 31 Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 32 So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. 34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. 35 The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ 36 Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” 37 He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”
(NRSV)

The story of the Good Samaritan is such a well known story. Even folks who would never darken a church door know the story. “Good Samaritan” has become a sort of euphemism for helping someone out of a desperate or awkward situation. But the story outside of the context, turns the story into something different than what Jesus meant it to be. It turns it into some sort of moral lesson, some ethical fable mean to teach us how to treat one another. And while that may not be a bad thing, it missing something of the real issue. The issue at stake here is eternal life. The lawyer asked Jesus “What must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Now while some folks may chide him for asking a question which would seem to imply that eternal life is a reward for something we do, I personally feel that that is a somewhat anachronistic reading of the text. I believe it is a fair question; even an honest one. It’s interesting, but Luke’s gospel is the only that records this, the greatest commandment, as coming from someone other than Jesus. In all the other gospels Jesus is asked which is the greatest commandment, and he answers with the Shema. Here, though, Luke turns things around; he puts the words of the divine command in the month of an ordinary person. But Luke does that. He brings the divine into the grit and grime of this world more than any of the other evangelist. And that’s one reason why I think this was a legitimate question. Luke didn’t see salvation as some disembodied spiritual experience void of any sort of physical involvement on our part. We have a part to play. Randy Maddox’s entitled his theology of John Wesley as Responsible Grace for precisely that reason. Grace may indeed be free, but it implies responsibility. Though we can do nothing to earn our salvation that does not mean salvation is passive. And that’s where the story of the Good Samaritan comes in.

While the lawyer asked Jesus, “Who is my neighbor?” Jesus asks “Who was a neighbor?” Jesus turns the whole thing around. When we seek to define exactly who is our neighbor and who isn’t we are in essence trying to decide just how far do we need to love. We want to know where is the line? How far is far enough? Jesus turns it around saying that it’s not a matter of trying to decide who is and who is not our neighbor. The point is you be a neighbor. And that means there is no line. There is no limit. Mercy extends equally and ubiquitously to everyone. Eternal life is not only about what we inherit after we die. It is the condition of how we live our life right now—in the grit and the grime of this world.

Friday’s Text: Galatians 6.7-16

7 Do not be deceived; God is not mocked, for you reap whatever you sow. 8 If you sow to your own flesh, you will reap corruption from the flesh; but if you sow to the Spirit, you will reap eternal life from the Spirit. 9 So let us not grow weary in doing what is right, for we will reap at harvest time, if we do not give up. 10 So then, whenever we have an opportunity, let us work for the good of all, and especially for those of the family of faith.

11 See what large letters I make when I am writing in my own hand! 12 It is those who want to make a good showing in the flesh that try to compel you to be circumcised—only that they may not be persecuted for the cross of Christ. 13 Even the circumcised do not themselves obey the law, but they want you to be circumcised so that they may boast about your flesh. 14 May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. 15 For neither circumcision nor uncircumcision is anything; but a new creation is everything! 16 As for those who will follow this rule—peace be upon them, and mercy, and upon the Israel of God.
(NRSV)

A new creation is everything… you reap what you sow… may I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ… these are what stand out for me in the text. And I have a feeling they are connected. Remember, Paul wrote Galatians to a group of Christians who were being influenced by a group of “judiazers” who tried to “bewitch” into believing that if they wanted to be really secure in their salvation they needed to follow the law. Paul’s argument is not one based on any sort of antinomian faith where what we do counts for nothing. Such an argument would be basically dualistic: our souls are saved, what we do with our bodies doesn’t matter. Instead Paul’s argument runs more along the lines of salvation being something holistic (body, soul, spirit) and ontological (being, substance). When we are saved by grace through faith, something substantive happens in us and to us. We are changed. The change is real (ontological). And it is that change that forms the basis of the new creation.

When Paul says “a new creation is everything” he is refereeing to individuals only as they are part of the greater whole—the kingdom of God. New creation is a communal and cosmic affair. Remember in Isaiah how he talked about a new heaven and a new earth? That’s the new creation Paul is talking about. The eschatological (end times) language of Isaiah finds fulfillment in Christ. In Christ the new creation is begun. In Christ the eschaton has arrived, though not fully actualized. And the way it has arrived is through the cross. Paul’s only source of boasting is in the cross of Christ. The cross turns everything upside down. It makes no sense. When we read Genesis one and the story of creation, we read about God’s power and majesty at work. God takes the tumultuous chaos of a formless void covered in deep darkness and brings order. God calls forth light and it comes, separates the light from the darkness, the land from the sea, the stars, the sun and the moon find their proper place at God’s beckoning. God brings forth life from the seas and the land, and out of a lump of clay creates humanity, breathing God’s own breath into the lungs of that first human. It’s beautiful, majestic, powerful; an account fitting the almighty God. Yet when God decided to bring forth a new creation, God chose to do so through a cross. If the Genesis account shows God’s power, the cross displays God’s vulnerability.

The new creation is still about power. It’s just a different kind of power. It’s the power of vulnerability, the power of self-giving, the power of risk. It is the power of humility. The new creation subversively works its way into our world from the bottom up. It is to the poor, the weak, and the marginalized that the gospel reaches. It is to the oppressed, the imprisoned, and the captive that the message of new creation becomes liberation and life. The new creation works through weakness so that we have no room to boast in our accomplishments. It comes through vulnerability in order that we can make ourselves vulnerable. It extends to all through God’s self-giving love so that we in turn can give ourselves away in love.

Thursday’s Text: Isaiah 66.10-14

10 Rejoice with Jerusalem, and be glad for her,
all you who love her;
rejoice with her in joy,
all you who mourn over her—
11 that you may nurse and be satisfied
from her consoling breast;
that you may drink deeply with delight
from her glorious bosom.
12 For thus says the LORD:
I will extend prosperity to her like a river,
and the wealth of the nations like an overflowing stream;
and you shall nurse and be carried on her arm,
and dandled on her knees.
13 As a mother comforts her child,
so I will comfort you;
you shall be comforted in Jerusalem.
14 You shall see, and your heart shall rejoice;
your bodies shall flourish like the grass;
and it shall be known that the hand of the LORD is with his servants,
and his indignation is against his enemies.
(NRSV)

Chapter 66 is the last chapter in the Book of Isaiah. Most biblical scholars see (at least) two separate movements in the book of Isaiah. The first part seems to warn against the result of continued disobedience. The second part is more positive, talking about God’s post-exilic restoration of Israel. As the second part (scholar refer to this as second Isaiah) moves along the tone shifts again to a more eschatological outlook as the author talks more and more about a new heaven and a new earth. These sorts of interpretive clues absolutely cannot be ignored when faithfully reading the biblical text.

This piece from Isaiah 66 talks both about Israel’s restoration and a coming day when God’s reign will be established on all the earth. It speaks of Israel becoming a blessing to all nations. It’s important for us to remember that when God elected Israel to be God’s special people, God did so with the intention of redeeming the world. Sometimes there’s this misguided notion that Israel’s election was an election to become separate, isolated, exclusive. God’s intention has always been much more cosmic in scale. When God separated Israel to Godself it was not that God turned God’s back on the rest of creation. God desired to bring about the new creation through Israel.

Perhaps there’s a lesson here for the church. Though I don’t agree with the idea that the church is the ‘new Israel’ (such ideas tend to lead to anti-Semitic tones and precluded Israel from being part of God’s people), I do see the church as a new people of God (one that includes the Israel—though differently and we don’t have space to develop that thought). As the church we are not so much saved from the world as saved for the world. Some ecclesiologists see the church’s essence as mission. If that’s so, then we need to answer the question, “What is mission?” Without ignoring or discounting many of the notions of mission as evangelism (‘winning people to Christ’), I would suggest that mission is also something much broader. Mission has to do with God’s desire to make all things new. It has to do with God’s Kingdom here on earth.

In his hymn, “A Charge to Keep I Have,” Charles Wesley says, “To serve the present age, / My calling to fulfill; / O may it all my pow’rs engage / To do my Master’s will!” As the church we are to serve the present age. Not some past age when things we “much better”, or some future age that has yet to be realized, but this present age. If we neglect that calling, we ignore God’s will for the church. Wesley’s hymn continues: “Help me to watch and pray, / And on Thyself rely, / Assured if I my trust betray / I shall forever die.” It seems Charles Wesley clearly understood the exigent nature of God’s calling to serve this present age.

Wednesday’s Text: Psalm 30

1 I will extol you, O LORD, for you have drawn me up,
and did not let my foes rejoice over me.
2 O LORD my God, I cried to you for help,
and you have healed me.
3 O LORD, you brought up my soul from Sheol,
restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit.
4 Sing praises to the LORD, O you his faithful ones,
and give thanks to his holy name.
5 For his anger is but for a moment;
his favor is for a lifetime.
Weeping may linger for the night,
but joy comes with the morning.
6 As for me, I said in my prosperity,
“I shall never be moved.”
7 By your favor, O LORD,
you had established me as a strong mountain;
you hid your face;
I was dismayed.
8 To you, O LORD, I cried,
and to the LORD I made supplication:
9 “What profit is there in my death,
if I go down to the Pit?
Will the dust praise you?
Will it tell of your faithfulness?
10 Hear, O LORD, and be gracious to me!
O LORD, be my helper!”
11 You have turned my mourning into dancing;
you have taken off my sackcloth
and clothed me with joy,
12 so that my soul may praise you and not be silent.
O LORD my God, I will give thanks to you forever.
(NRSV)

How do we help others recognize the kingdom of God in our midst? Certainly, recognizing God’s kingdom at work ourselves is an important part. But equally important is our praise and thanksgiving. The heading in my Bible above this psalm says, “Thanksgiving for Recovery from Grace Illness.” The psalmist was ill, perhaps to the point of death. He cried to God for help, and God healed him. God rescued him from the grave. And because of that, the psalmist not only praises God, but encourages others to join him in lifting praise and thanksgiving to God.

There is a word that many in the Evangelical church tend to shun. It is a word I wish we would recover. It’s a Greek word that come to be used to refer to the communion event. In our Evangelical tradition we prefer phrases like “Lord’s Supper” or “Communion.” And those are okay (especially “communion” –koinonia). But this Greek word should become part of our vocabulary again. It is the word Eucharist. The word simply means “thanksgiving.” When we come to celebrate communion/the Lord’s Supper, it is a Eucharistic event. In it we express in a visible and public way our thanksgiving to God for rescuing us from the grave. Viewed as Eucharist, it becomes as much a statement of faith as a means of grace.

I’m going to give everyone plenty of notice this time. On July 11th we will celebrate the Eucharist together. I invite you to once again write a short psalm of thanksgiving of your own to share as part of our Thanksgiving service on the 11th. Everyone did such a spectacular job last time, perhaps we can include this as part of our monthly Eucharist celebration. I think it would be a good thing. It would certainly help us to recognize the kingdom of God in our midst. And if we recognize God’s kingdom as work, we can help other recognize it as well with our praise and thanksgiving.

Tuesday’s Text: 2 Kings 5.1-14

5 Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the LORD had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy. 2 Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. 3 She said to her mistress, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” 4 So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. 5 And the king of Aram said, “Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel.”
He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. 6 He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy.” 7 When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.”
8 But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, “Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel.” 9 So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and halted at the entrance of Elisha’s house. 10 Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.” 11 But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, “I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the LORD his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! 12 Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?” He turned and went away in a rage. 13 But his servants approached and said to him, “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, ‘Wash, and be clean’?” 14 So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean.
(NRSV)

How can we help others recognize the kingdom of God in our midst? Today’s text from 2 Kings hold quite a contrast in it. First we have the young servant girl who recognized the power of God’s kingdom at work in the and through the prophet Elisha. By pointing Naaman to the prophet Elisha this young girl was in fact helping Naaman recognize the kingdom of God. In contrast to her response we have the response of the king of Israel. He couldn’t see the kingdom even though it was active right there in his land. He couldn’t see the kingdom, so he was unable to help others recognize it. He was concerned only with his own skin, his own reputation.

Finally, when Naaman makes his way to the prophet’s home, he is disappointed. His disappointment is not really with Elisha’s willingness or unwillingness to help. As a matter of fact, Elisha very much desired to make God’s kingdom recognizable to Naaman. Naaman’s disappointment, though, had to do with his own self-importance—not unlike the king of Israel. Naaman figured since he was such an important person, traveled such a long way, carried a letter from his own king, Elisha should have some sort of special ritual or something. But it wasn’t about Elisha; it wasn’t about Naaman. It was about the kingdom of God and the power of that kingdom. God chose to heal without any fanfare so that there was nothing around to distract from the kingdom. The kingdom of God was recognized most clearly in the ordinariness of all that Elisha required of Naaman.

In order to help others recognize the kingdom of God in our midst, we must first recognize it ourselves. The problem, though, is when we become too preoccupied with ourselves, our position, our reputation, we can’t see it. The only way to truly recognize the kingdom of God is when our focus is turned toward others. When we become more concerned with the well being of another than with saving our own skin, that’s when the kingdom seems to manifest itself. Similarly, we tend to miss the kingdom when we look for it in the spectacular. The kingdom of God seems most at home in the ordinary. It seems to prefer stables over palaces, serving over being served, fisherman and shepherds over princes and kings. It seems to become most active among the downtrodden, the forgotten, the marginalized. It seems to become most powerful in the cup of cold water handed to the thirsty, the food provided for the hungry, the clothes given to the naked. The kingdom of God is recognized among the least, the last, and the lost.

Monday’s Text: Luke 10.1-11, 16-20

10 After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. 2 He said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest. 3 Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. 4 Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. 5 Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ 6 And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. 7 Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. 8 Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; 9 cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The kingdom of God has come near to you.’ 10 But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, 11 ‘Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.’
________________________________________

16 “Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.”
17 The seventy returned with joy, saying, “Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!” 18 He said to them, “I watched Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning. 19 See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you. 20 Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”
(NRSV)

As I mentioned on Sunday, chapter nine of Luke signals a turning point. Whereas the first 8 chapters seem to highlight the miraculous work of Jesus, especially in fulfilling the Isaiah passage, with the beginning of chapter nine the emphasis turns more to the sayings of Jesus, as well as the involvement of the disciples in the ministry. Chapter nine begins with the sending of the twelve, here at the beginning of chapter 10 that ministry is expanded as Jesus now sends out the 70. The allusion to Moses appointing 70 elders is clear and keeps with Luke’s general theme in presenting Jesus as a prophet like Moses. Beyond that, it’s difficult to discern any additional meaning to the number seventy (which has been the subject of much speculation, though little real research stand behind most of it). Anyway, the general point of the story seems to be Jesus’ expansion of his ministry to the outcast and the lowly.

Two things jump out at me. First, is the recognition that even though their message is one of peace, one that offers healing for the sick and good news for the poor, there will be those who reject this peace. They go as lambs into the midst of wolves. Yet even in the midst of this rejection, they are to have confidence that the kingdom has indeed come near. That seems significant. In a day and an age where success is something measured by statistics and visible growth, Jesus seems to be saying that success in the kingdom is about something different. Even when met with rejection, the kingdom is still successful. It doesn’t depend on the same indicators that we depend on.

The second thing is a warning against pride. Or at least that’s how I take it. These 70 people had been privileged with great power. It would have been easy to let the results of that power get to their heads. The minute we forget that it’s not about us, we become in danger. As Christians we have been given much. But we have been given this not for ourselves, but for others. We rejoice not in the gift, but the giver. And we desire to help others encounter the giver of all good gifts.

I suppose if there’s one thing that would be good to think about as we read through the different Scriptures this week it would be, “How can we help others recognize the kingdom of God in our midst?”

Friday’s Text: Galatians 5.1, 13-25

1 For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.

13 For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters; only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become slaves to one another. 14 For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” 15 If, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.
16 Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. 17 For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit, and what the Spirit desires is opposed to the flesh; for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you want. 18 But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not subject to the law. 19 Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, 20 idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, 21 envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.
22 By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. 24 And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. 25 If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.
(NRSV)


Some of the images here in this piece from Paul’s letter to the Galatians are quite poignant, but perhaps none as much as the idea of freedom as slavery to one another. The idea of freedom is so often filled with self-serving concepts. We think of freedom in terms of ‘freedom from’—free from slavery, free from school, free from sin, free from having to listen to our parents, freedom from… Such a view of freedom becomes self-indulgent. It sets my own personal, individual happiness up as the source and measure of my freedom. I am free so long as I can do whatever I want… whatever makes me happy. But Paul is saying that true freedom—the kind of freedom that Christ has brought—is not freedom from, but freedom for. It is a freedom for love. Paul says that the entire law is summed up in love.

Dr. Oord defines loves this way: “To love is to act intentionally, in sympathetic/empathetic response to God and others, to promote overall well-being.” I think that is a pretty good definition. I’ll leave it to you to unpack (If you want to read more let me recommend the book, Relational Holiness, that he coauthored with Michael Lodahl). Suffice it to say that love defined in this way is not self-seeking or self-indulgent, nor is it wimpy. Dr. Oord talks about this love as a kenotic love—a self-giving love. The idea comes from the hymn in Philippians 2. Charles Wesley includes this idea in one of his hymns saying that God “emptied himself of all but love.” Love is God’s way; it is also the way in which God calls us to follow. It must become our way as well.

Jesus calls us to follow in the way of love. The hope of the future is that we (the church) learn to live out this love the way Jesus wants us to.

Thursday’s Text: 1 Kings 19.15-16, 19-21

15 Then the LORD said to him, “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus; when you arrive, you shall anoint Hazael as king over Aram. 16 Also you shall anoint Jehu son of Nimshi as king over Israel; and you shall anoint Elisha son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah as prophet in your place.
19 So he set out from there, and found Elisha son of Shaphat, who was plowing. There were twelve yoke of oxen ahead of him, and he was with the twelfth. Elijah passed by him and threw his mantle over him. 20 He left the oxen, ran after Elijah, and said, “Let me kiss my father and my mother, and then I will follow you.” Then Elijah said to him, “Go back again; for what have I done to you?” 21 He returned from following him, took the yoke of oxen, and slaughtered them; using the equipment from the oxen, he boiled their flesh, and gave it to the people, and they ate. Then he set out and followed Elijah, and became his servant.
(NRSV)

The parallels between this text and Monday’s text from Luke are hard to miss. Elisha seemed willing to follow, but first wants to go back and say his good-byes. Elijah’s response is somewhat puzzling. It’s hard to tell if he is giving permission to Elisha to return and kiss his father and mother, or if his answer is more like saying a sarcastic, “whatever.” There does seem to be something acidulous in Elijah’s words. “What have I done to you?” seems to have a bite to it. Almost like, “Well, if you think kissing daddy and mommy goodbye is more important than following God, go ahead. It’s your choice. It’s not like I’m not forcing you to do anything.” It seems Elisha understood. The text doesn’t say he ever returned to say goodbye to his parents. Instead, he shows his utter devotion by killing the oxen, and using the plow and the yoke to build a fire and cook it.

Following unconditionally into the future seems to involve more than a half-hearted devotion and sacrifice. I think of the Jerusalem church in the book of Acts, and how “they would sell their possession and goods” (Acts 2.44, see also4.32-34, and 5.1-11) for the sake of realizing the kingdom of God. There was a greater vision and mission that stretched out before them that made sacrifice easy. To follow unconditionally into the future is a call to live sacrificial lives. I just read a paper entitled, “’Crucified to the World’: Suffering, Itinerancy, and Transitions in American Methodist Ecclesiology” (Wesleyan Theological Journal: Volume 43, Number 1, Spring 2008) The main thesis of the paper was that in the early days of American Methodism there was a prevailing understanding that, in the words of Thomas Coke and Francis Asbury, “Our aim, in all our economy and ministerial labors, is to raise a holy people, crucified to the world and alive to God.” But as time went on, and numbers grew, and there was a general accretion in the economic base of the Methodists, being ‘crucified to the world’ started to be less about real sacrifice and more about a spiritual disposition.

It was out of this tempering of the early zeal that holiness movement like the Church of the Nazarene grew. They sought to recapture holiness as being crucified to the world (a caveat: being crucified to the world meant (1) a very different economy than society’s emphasis on goods and possessions, and (2) a missionary orientation toward the world rather than a withdrawal from it). It seems to me that today we stand at—or very nearly at—the same place as Methodism did nearly a century ago. I don’t say this to be overly critical, or to insinuate we need to sacrifice more. My concern is somewhat deeper. Do we today have the same passion, vision, and conviction to the mission of the church as the early Methodist, or the early Holiness movement did? The problem (as I see it) is not one of greater sacrifice, but one in which we no longer see the hope that tomorrow holds for the gospel. We have lost the vision of hope. And without that vision sacrifice for the sake of sacrifice holds little appeal. My hope and my prayer and my goal is to rekindle that vision in the life of the Shelton Church of the Nazarene. There is hope for the future. It’s called Jesus. And Jesus calls us to follow him into the hope-filled future.

Jesus, all for Jesus,
All I am and have and ever hope to be…

Wednesday’s Text: Psalm 77.1-2, 11-20

Wednesday’s Text: Psalm 77.1-2, 11-20

1 I cry aloud to God,
aloud to God, that he may hear me.
2 In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord;
in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying;
my soul refuses to be comforted.

11 I will call to mind the deeds of the LORD;
I will remember your wonders of old.
12 I will meditate on all your work,
and muse on your mighty deeds.
13 Your way, O God, is holy.
What god is so great as our God?
14 You are the God who works wonders;
you have displayed your might among the peoples.
15 With your strong arm you redeemed your people,
the descendants of Jacob and Joseph. Selah
16 When the waters saw you, O God,
when the waters saw you, they were afraid;
the very deep trembled.
17 The clouds poured out water;
the skies thundered;
your arrows flashed on every side.
18 The crash of your thunder was in the whirlwind;
your lightnings lit up the world;
the earth trembled and shook.
19 Your way was through the sea,
your path, through the mighty waters;
yet your footprints were unseen.
20 You led your people like a flock
by the hand of Moses and Aaron.
(NRSV)


Following unconditionally into the future… This Sunday’s PowerPoint background is going to be a picture of a door. I thought, “what better image of following into the future than a door?” The picture, though, is unique. It’s a red door, propped up by some cinderblocks on the front porch. There is no house with the door, just the door. It’s the door of the childhood home of a friend of mine. He was born there, grew up there, brought his wife and kids there for family get-togethers. Now it’s all gone. The tornadoes that hit the Midwest a number of weeks ago tore through the home. Nothing was left. Total destruction. Yet when I look at this red door standing in the middle of the total devastation left behind by that tornado, I see hope. I see an invitation, an opportunity. I see that red door standing there calling us to step beyond the circumstances that seem so bleak into a future that burgeons with promise.

The psalmist is in the midst of some tragedy. He cries out night and day for God to hear him and answer. It is like a tornado has torn through his life and it seems like everything is in total ruins around him. Comfort does not come. He reaches for God, but God seems to elude his grasp. God seems distant and unapproachable. Yet, in the midst of this distress, there is a red door standing. The psalmist says, “I will call to mind the deeds of the Lord; / I will remember your wonders of old. / I will meditate on all your works, / and muse on your mighty deeds.” He recognizes God’s power and majesty: “Your way, O God, is holy.” And then he lists all sorts of ways God has worked to redeem the people. And then, in what is perhaps the most amazing thing in the whole psalm, he says, “Your way was through the sea, / your path through the mighty waters; / yet your footprints were unseen. / You led your people like a flock / by the hand of Moses and Aaron.” For all God’s might and power and majesty, God has chosen to work through people who have decided to follow God unconditional into the future.

There is a red door standing there in the midst of our today calling us into tomorrow. It stands in the middle of great devastation calling us to hope. It stands defiantly among the rubble and the collapse of all that it broken and fractured in our world. It stands there to remind us that God is calling us to become part of co-creating a better tomorrow, one where God’s kingdom comes and God’s will is done here on earth just as it is in heaven. I don’t know about you, but I am willing to follow unconditionally into that kind of future.

Tuesday’s (6/22/2010) Scripture: 2 Kings 2.1-2, 6-14

Tuesday’s (6/22/2010) Scripture: 2 Kings 2.1-2, 6-14

Now when the LORD was about to take Elijah up to heaven by a whirlwind, Elijah and Elisha were on their way from Gilgal. 2 Elijah said to Elisha, “Stay here; for the LORD has sent me as far as Bethel.” But Elisha said, “As the LORD lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So they went down to Bethel. (NRSV)
2 Kings 2:6-14
________________________________________

6 Then Elijah said to him, “Stay here; for the LORD has sent me to the Jordan.” But he said, “As the LORD lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” So the two of them went on. 7 Fifty men of the company of prophets also went, and stood at some distance from them, as they both were standing by the Jordan. 8 Then Elijah took his mantle and rolled it up, and struck the water; the water was parted to the one side and to the other, until the two of them crossed on dry ground.
9 When they had crossed, Elijah said to Elisha, “Tell me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you.” Elisha said, “Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit.” 10 He responded, “You have asked a hard thing; yet, if you see me as I am being taken from you, it will be granted you; if not, it will not.” 11 As they continued walking and talking, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them, and Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven. 12 Elisha kept watching and crying out, “Father, father! The chariots of Israel and its horsemen!” But when he could no longer see him, he grasped his own clothes and tore them in two pieces.
Elisha Succeeds Elijah
13 He picked up the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and went back and stood on the bank of the Jordan. 14 He took the mantle of Elijah that had fallen from him, and struck the water, saying, “Where is the LORD, the God of Elijah?” When he had struck the water, the water was parted to the one side and to the other, and Elisha went over.


So, where do you see the theme of following unconditionally into the future in this text? Certainly, Elisha is persistent in following Elijah, even when Elijah tries to turn him away. But of course, following involves more than just walking after someone. It is about more than simply “tagging along.” To follow involves aligning one’s life with the life of another. It means adopting and assimilating their passion, vision, and mission into your own life. When Elisha requests a double portion of Elijah’s spirit, it wasn’t a self-serving request, one motivated by a desire for prestige, honor, or power. We need to remember that Elijah’s career as a prophet was that of “the troubler of Israel.” It was hardly one of prestige, honor, or power. Elisha’s request was that he may follow in Elijah’s calling as God’s prophet. Before Elisha ever caught Elijah’s spirit, he caught Elijah’s passion, he caught Elijah’s vision; Elijah’s mission had captured Elisha and he desired to extend that mission into the future.

It is interesting that after Elisha watches Elijah being taken up into heaven, he doesn’t linger long. He doesn’t build a monument or a memorial, lamenting the way things were. There is remorse at his loss—he tears his clothes in two. But that remorse doesn’t keep him locked in the past. Instead, he picks Elijah’s mantle and walks into the future. Elisha not only continues the mission, he extends it. You see, to carry the mission into the future isn’t about repeating the past; it’s not about doing what has already been done. It’s about finding new ways. It’s about creating new venues for God’s Spirit to be encountered. It’s about opening up new opportunities to engage our world with the transforming message of God’s love.

To follow unconditionally into the future presupposes two interrelated things. First, that we believe the future is something that holds enough hope and possibility that we are willing to walk into it. And second, that we have something/someone worth following. Personally, I believe the answer to both is an unequivocal ‘yes.’ The passion, vision, and mission of Jesus contrasts sharply with the prestige, honor, and power that drives our culture. It is that passion, vision, and mission that fills me with confidence that our future is full of promise and potential. It is that passion, vision, and mission that is worth risking everything to follow. It is that passion, vision, and mission that is worth any sacrifice no matter how great, no matter how radical, no matter how ridiculous.

Monday’s (6/21/2010) Text: Luke 9.51-62

Monday’s (6/21/2010) Text: Luke 9.51-62

51 When the days drew near for him to be taken up, he set his face to go to Jerusalem. 52 And he sent messengers ahead of him. On their way they entered a village of the Samaritans to make ready for him; 53 but they did not receive him, because his face was set toward Jerusalem. 54 When his disciples James and John saw it, they said, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” 55 But he turned and rebuked them. 56 Then they went on to another village.
57 As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” 58 And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” 59 To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.” 60 But Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” 61 Another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” 62 Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

Ooo… what a juicy piece of Scripture. It is just dripping with theological implications. It is oozing with theological overtones that challenge us in so many ways. It is so packed full of theological demurs that it should cause us to pause and reconsider our own position. The overarching theme, though, is unmistakable what does it means to follow Jesus? Following Jesus is not an easy task. We don’t set the terms. That’s one thing that really stands out in these verses. We are called to follow. We are not given the option for setting our terms or for establishing the conditions of our following. One finds Jesus destination offensive, another wanted 5-star accommodations, another had to settle some unfinished business, still another was unwilling to move forward without longing for the way things were. All illustrate the impossibility of following Jesus conditionally. They all also illustrate that Jesus call to fallow is a call to a destination.

That destination is ahead of us. It lies in the future, and it can never be arrived at by going back, by returning to some past or former place. To follow we must go forward. Going forward, though, is itself rife with danger and uncertainty. The future is unknown. It is unsettled. It is open to possibility. The potential to shape and transform the future is why Jesus leads us there. We have the opportunity to make our tomorrows into truly something amazing. Jesus leads us into the future, because we have the opportunity to shape that future, to influence our tomorrows with the kingdom of God in such a way that that kingdom becomes actualized—even if in only some small way. By refusing to move forward, by attaching ourselves too rigidly to the past, we can unwittingly hinder the coming of God’s kingdom. Something none of us, I’m sure, want to do.

Throughout the rest of this week’s Scripture readings, keep an eye out for this theme of following unconditionally into the future.

Friday’s Text: Galatians 1.11-24

Friday’s Text: Galatians 1.11-24

11 For I want you to know, brothers and sisters, that the gospel that was proclaimed by me is not of human origin; 12 for I did not receive it from a human source, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ.
13 You have heard, no doubt, of my earlier life in Judaism. I was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. 14 I advanced in Judaism beyond many among my people of the same age, for I was far more zealous for the traditions of my ancestors. 15 But when God, who had set me apart before I was born and called me through his grace, was pleased 16 to reveal his Son to me, so that I might proclaim him among the Gentiles, I did not confer with any human being, 17 nor did I go up to Jerusalem to those who were already apostles before me, but I went away at once into Arabia, and afterwards I returned to Damascus.
18 Then after three years I did go up to Jerusalem to visit Cephas and stayed with him fifteen days; 19 but I did not see any other apostle except James the Lord’s brother. 20 In what I am writing to you, before God, I do not lie! 21 Then I went into the regions of Syria and Cilicia, 22 and I was still unknown by sight to the churches of Judea that are in Christ; 23 they only heard it said, “The one who formerly was persecuting us is now proclaiming the faith he once tried to destroy.” 24 And they glorified God because of me.

Galatians is an interesting Epistle. Many have called it a mini Book of Romans because of its deep and rich theology, touching on many of the same themes as Paul does in Romans. Galatians, though, carries a much stronger polemic tone than does Romans. Here Paul is confronting a critical issue. Even his salutation seems heavy and confrontational. Rather than his typical greeting acknowledging his apostleship, here Paul inserts the polemically loaded words, “Sent neither by human commission nor from human authorities, but through Jesus Christ and God the Father, who raised him from the dead.” Paul comes out with guns blazing. And he doesn’t let up, calling them bewitched, accusing them of deserting Christ in order to follow a perverted gospel, which is no gospel at all. Two times he says that anyone who preaches such a perversion should be accursed. These are some pretty strong words from Paul. But like every piece of Scripture, there is a specific context and situation that is being addressed. It is imprudent and irresponsible to interpret Scripture outside of that context and situation. When Paul talks about “a different gospel,” he has something specific in mind.

The specific issue in this case has to do with the sufficiency of Christ’s atoning death and the degree of salvation that is provided by that death. Paul had preached that Christ’s sacrifice provided all one needs to receive the fullness of God’s grace and forgiveness. Paul preached that not only was Christ all sufficient, but any attempt to add to it derogated God’s free gift. But after Paul left, a group of “super-apostles” showed up saying that Paul only had it partly right. After all, he was a newbie, hardly experienced enough to get it all right. He didn’t fully understand all the traditions involved. Certainly, Jesus saves, but only so far. If you want to be really saved, you need to become practicing Jews as well. At issue, then, is ultimately the source and means of salvation. When Paul speaks of a different gospel, he is talking about a different way of being saved. It has nothing to do with peripheral issues such as forms of worship, ecclesial practices, or doctrinal issues such as those that have so divided the modern church. Paul’s invective, instead, is concerned with purely soteriological issues. Paul’s message was simple, concise, and straight forward: Christ crucified. The working out of that salvific event, however, is far more detailed and nuanced (as is evidenced by the variegated views presented in the NT).

In the above text Paul defends his apostleship, not in order to justify himself, or to set him and his ministry over and against the ministry of any other. Instead Paul is pointing to the divine origin of his apostleship—the fact that it didn’t rest on “human origin” but on God. Paul is an apostle because God sent him. It was God who revealed his Son, Jesus, to Paul. It was God who set him apart to proclaim Christ to the Gentiles. Because the gospel has divine authorship, it also has a divine authority and commissioning. In pointing out the divine authority of his apostleship, Paul is setting the foundation for the divine authorship of his message.

Care must be taken here, though, so that we don’t wrongfully interpret Paul’s words about “not confer[ring] with any human being” and receiving his message directly from God as arguing for a purely fideistic understanding of revelation. Paul’s erudition is without question. What changed, though, was now all that learning and theological brilliance found a new center—Jesus. It’s not that Paul had to unlearn everything, and then God supernaturally downloaded a whole new operating system into his head. In the revelation of Christ, everything Paul already new found its one true source, meaning, and purpose.

The Service of the Table

William Willimon insightfully points out that, “In our worship life, infrequency usually breeds indifference and misunderstanding. Rather than making Communion ‘something special,’ as some churches claim to do, infrequent celebrations lead a congregation to regard Communion as something optional, unusual, and dispensable.”[1] The reality, though, is just the opposite: Communion is not something optional, unusual or dispensable; it is the principle reason why the church gathers. In his sermon, “The Duty of Constant Communion,” John Wesley lays out his argument for an increased frequency of celebrating the Lord’s Supper. In it he asserts that “it is the duty of every Christian to receive the Lord’s Supper as often as he can.”[2] For Wesley, the Lord’s Supper was the “grand channel” whereby the grace of the Holy Spirit is conveyed to human souls.[3] Through it we experience God’s pardon from sin, the power to overcome sin, and the strength to become perfected in love. Later in the same sermon, “The Duty of Constant Communion,” Wesley says:

The grace of God given herein confirms to us the pardon of our sins, and enables us to leave them. As our bodies are strengthened by bread and wine, so our souls by these tokens of the body and the blood of Christ. This is the food of our souls: This gives strength to perform our duty, and leads us on to perfection. If, therefore, we have any regard for the plain command of Christ, if we desire the pardon of our sins, if we wish for strength to believe, to love and obey God, then we should neglect no opportunity of receiving the Lord’s Supper; then we must never turn our backs on the feast which our Lord has prepared for us.[4]

Yet it should also be recognized that for Wesley the central reason for coming to the means of grace was not merely obedience to God’s command, but that in it we might encounter God’s presence.[5] As Wesleyan’s we affirm the real presence of God in the Eucharist (thanksgiving). Not in some magical way that has changed the substance of ordinary bread and wine (juice) into the physical body and blood of Christ, but in way that relates the real presence to those who faithfully receive the bread and the cup. Through the agency of the Holy Spirit, Christ’s presence in made real to those who come to the table, and so we are able to “participate directly in that presence with all of its pardoning and transforming benefits.”[6] Coming with our hands open reminds us that we receive this presence as a gift.

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[1] William H. Willimon, A Guide to Preaching and Leading Worship (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008) 43.

[2] John Wesley, The Works of John Wesley, Vol. 7, “The Duty of Constant Communion” (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2002), 147.

[3] Randy Maddox, Responsible Grace: John Wesley’s Practical Theology (Nashville: Kingswood Books, 1994), 202.

[4] Ibid., 148.

[5] See Wesley’s Sermon, “Means of Grace,” The Works of John Wesley, Vol. 5.

[6] Randy Maddox, Responsible Grace: John Wesley’s Practical Theology (Nashville: Kingswood Books, 1994), 204.

The Service of the Word

As the people of God, the church is uniquely formed by Scripture. The authority of Scripture is found in its formative properties. One biblical scholar says, “The first and primary way in which Scripture is authoritative in the church is simply that this collection of documents is privileged in the life of the church and, indeed, privileged in such a way as fundamentally to shape that life.”[1] Through the reading of Scripture, the life of the church takes shape. We are invited to “imagine the world that Scripture imagines.”[2] And the world that Scripture imagines is uniquely different than the world we encounter in the course of the week. It is a world where the poor are called blessed, where the last become first, where the least becomes the greatest, where power and position and clout are replaced by a cross a crown of thrones and an empty tomb. And we are invited to become part of that world. Willimon points out that “Behind all Scripture is not simply the question, ‘Will you agree?’ but rather the more political, ‘Will you join up?’”[3] As Scripture is read as part of the liturgy of the church, this question becomes the functional center upon which the entire service turns. The Scripture is read, the sermon is preached not to inform, not to provide facts—historical or ethical—but to pose the question, “Will you join up?” The invitation is to participate in this strange new world the Scripture opens to us. And as the church participates in this new world we are confronted by the upsetting reality that it is this strange new world that is the real world.

We respond in the only way we can—through faith. Faith calls into being what is not as yet fully formed. Faith sees the new world of God’s kingdom proleptically as already here. What we have heard with our ears; what we have allowed to shape our life; what we have felt stirring in our heart, we now proclaim with our mouths. The Nicene Creed sets forth the core Christian beliefs held by the Universal Church since its inception. The Creed was adopted by the first ecumenical council held in 325ce at the city of Nicaea, and has been a part of Christian worship ever since. It has also effectively served as a safeguard and defender against heresy. Confessing our faith together aligns us with the church that not only reaches around the world, but stretches back through the centuries.

If ‘liturgy’ means the work of the people, than the prayers of the people must be the heart of this work. The prayers invite each of us to participate in the praying, not merely stand by as spectators listening to another pray. It is the prayers of the people and so the people pray. Through the prayers, intersession is made for the church, our leaders, the world, unbelievers, our enemies, and for ourselves. And as the prayers of the people conclude, the church is able to examine herself more closely. We remember that we live in a fallen world filled with injustice and oppression. We recognize that we are involuntarily part of systems that contribute to the dehumanizing of others. We acknowledge that even our best of intentions, even when done through the pure motive of love, might still inadvertently hurt and offend others. And so as we prepare for the service of the table, we come to God and confess our sins and our shortcomings.

John Wesley’s oft quoted dictum distinguishing sin properly understood as a willful transgression of a known ordinance of God, and sin improperly understood as mere mistakes or infirmities has unfortunately led to the abrogation of public confession in many churches. It should be noted that while Wesley did distinguish between sin and infirmity, he continually affirmed that even our infirmities were to be confessed, thus appropriating the merits of Christ’s atoning blood.

(1.) Every one may mistake as long as he lives. (2.) A mistake in opinion may occasion a mistake in practice. (3.) Every such mistake is a transgression of the perfect law. Therefore, (4.) Every such mistake, were it not for the blood of the atonement, would expose to eternal damnation. (5.) It follows, that the most perfect have continual need of the merits of Christ, even for their actual transgressions, and may say for themselves, as well as for their brethren, ‘Forgive us our trespasses.’[4]

John Wesley recognized that even a person filled with the love of God is still liable to involuntary transgressions. And these involuntary transgressions need to be placed under the atoning blood of Christ.[5] Our confessional prayer together recognizes both outright sin as well as involuntary transgressions, but even more it recognizes the power of God’s grace to not only forgive, but to overcome these sins—both properly and improperly so called. The purpose of confessing together is not to foster or further the notion of a “sinning church” (i.e. we sin daily in word thought and deed), but to commend ourselves to the mercy of God’s grace and the power of that grace to work in our lives to overcome sin and infirmity, and so perfecting us in love. The good news is, if anyone is in Christ they are a new creation; the old is gone, the new has come.

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[1] Robert W. Jenson, The Art of Reading Scripture. eds. Ellen Davis and Richard Hays, "Scripture’s Authority in the Church" (Grand Rapids: William Eerdmans Publishing, 2003), 36.

[2] L. Gregory Jones, The Art of Reading Scripture. eds. Ellen Davis and Richard Hays, "Embodying Scripture in the Community of Faith" (Grand Rapids: William Eerdmans Publishing, 2003), 146.

[3] William Willimon, Pastor: The Theology and Practice of Ordained Ministry (Nashville: Abibgdon, 2002), 129.

[4] John Wesley, The Works of John Wesley, Vol. 11, “Plain Account of Christian Perfection” (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2002), 395.

[5] Ibid., 396.

The Gathering

Gordon Lathrop points out that as the church comes together for worship, “The astonishing truth is this: the most important symbol of Christ in the room is not the minister, not the altar, not even the bread and wine or the water of the font. It is the assembly, the Body of Christ, as the New Testament says.”[1] The theological significance of the gathering comes from the biblical declaration that once we were not a people, but now we are God’s people.[2] The gathering of the church for worship comes in response to God’s call. “You did not choose me but I chose you.”[3] We come together as the people of God because God has called us into being. We did not decided one day to “have church.” Rather, it is the Word made flesh, the incarnate God who entered creation, lived as a man, died on a Cross, and was raised to new life that calls us to gather as God’s unique people. In this gathering we become the sign, symbol, and witness to the resurrection.

The function of The Gathering is to turn our focus from the world that we have come from with all its demands and burdens, toward the world to which God calls us with its promise of peace and rest and renewal. Through the opening hymn, the invocative prayer, the Great Litany we are given the opportunity to move from the kingdom of day-timers, deadlines, and distractions into the kingdom of God. The Gathering is important because it prepares us to hear from God. An important part of that preparation is The Great Litany. The words of this ancient prayer call out to God who has shown us mercy, reminding us of our continual need for that mercy in our lives to not only keep us safe, but to empower us to be God’s unique people in the world. “Once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.”[4] The words, “Have mercy upon us,” are not meant to coax God into giving something God is reluctant to give, but to avail ourselves of the mercy already abundantly available to all who ask. The Great Litany concludes with a short prayer, and then the Service of the Word begins.

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[1] Gordon W. Lathrop, The Pastor: a Spirituality (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2006), 27.

[2] See 1 Peter 2.10

[3] John 15.16, NRSV.

[4] 1 Peter 2.10, NRSV.