CafeInspirado.com

A new year is always a good time to rethink. Re-evaluate. But not just in making resolutions or planning to solve problems that have haunted us the previous year. It’s also a good time to ask the same questions of ourselves that we may have answered years before, to guage our growth, to see how much we may have changed or how far we’ve come.  Or even just to measure our state of mind.

With that in mind, here are James Lipton’s famous questions that he always asks famous people in his “Actor’s Studio”. The answers here are mine, but you could ask them of yourself — just for fun.

1. “What is your favorite word?” – Yes.

2. “What is your least favorite word?” – Busy.

3. “What turns you on creatively, spiritually or emotionally?” – Revelation, some fresh insight I’d never heard of or thought of before.

4. “What turns you off?” – mean people. Rudeness. Cold-heartedness. Greed. … this one is too easy.

5. “What sound or noise do you love?” – the sound of a kiss by two people who are in love

6. “What sound or noise do you hate?” – a slamming door.

7. “What is your favorite curse word?” – I try not to curse (too much), but I’m kinda fond of the word “bitch”, said affectionately to snarky friends, of course.  (Sorry, mom!)

8. “What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?” – the one I dreamed of for years: University professor.

9. “What profession would you not like to do?” – oh, so many! Politician, for one. Salesman. Doctor. Attorney, accountant … all kinds of things.

10. “If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?” – Thank you. I needed that done.

… At least for this year.

Weird thing happened last night at church. A bunch of us got together for our weekly Bible study, and, it being the night before Thanksgiving, only a handful of people showed up. And we talked, and joked, and laughed like we normally do. And then it was time to get down to business. Leading the group, I started praying. And I was still laughing while I prayed. Even as we all lifted some of the concerns and requests up to God, I described the various situations to God as any of us do in a group of friends we enjoy being around. Real issues, real stories, but told from the comical side, sharing the joke with God.  Laughing in the Throne Room.

And it struck me: I’ve never in my life seen a preacher laughing while praying in church.

How ridiculous. Why are we always so serious, so “religious” about talking to God? Laughing, expressing our humor with God should be the most natural thing in the world. And I think it’s because even after all these generations of being a supposedly “Christian nation”, of being the most overly-churched, overly-exposed people to the Gospel in the entire world, we still have it ALL wrong. We still have very little idea what that “Gospel” is really all about. But then again, religious people are almost always the last to grasp the simple truth.

What Good News?
When Jesus first started doing public ministry, way back 2000 years ago, the very first words he said were: “The time has come. The Kingdom of God is here. Repent and believe the good news!” (Mk 1:15). I was rereading this a few days ago, and I was stumped by the phrase. “Believe the good news”? What good news? Mark, the gospel writer, never explains what that is. Of course, it had to be related to the Kingdom arriving, but what did that really mean? Well, we have four gospels — Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John — and each describes the same events from different perspectives. Like four people at a party, each will remember and highlight certain things that were particularly important to him, bringing out details that the others may have overlooked. So I flipped over to Luke’s account to see if he could fill in the missing details: what good news?

Jesus went to Nazareth where he had been brought up, and on the Sabbath day he went into the synagogue … The scroll of the prophet Isaiah was handed to him. Unrolling it, he found the place where it is written:
The Spirit of the Lord is on me because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners,
and recovery of sight for the blind,
to release the oppressed,
and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.
Then he began by saying to them, “Today this scripture is fulfilled in your hearing.” Everyone spoke well of him and were amazed at his gracious words” (Lk 4:16-22).

There It Is
And there it was — the good news. And these religious folks, these people who had read their Bibles all their lives, were amazed at what he was teaching them. Jesus didn’t just read to them, he “began by saying to them”, so he must have spent some time elaborating, explaining, telling them familiar truths in a way they’d never heard before. He opened their eyes for the first time in their lives to the true heart of God, hidden in words they already knew so well. And this is it…

That religious prison you’ve been living in all your life — you’re free from it. That view of God you’ve had all these years, the God who counts your sins, the one whom you try so hard to please but keep failing — here’s a different view. See the Father in a new way: not through laws and rules and religious lifestyle, but in simplicity of a loving relationship. Don’t be blind anymore to the true character of God. Open your eyes and see. That oppression you’ve been living under, the frustration of constant failure to live up to other people’s expectations and rules and regulations, trying to force you into a mold of “holiness” — you’re released from all that. Oh, and by the way, the time has come, your King is here now, and that means you NOW live in a time of God’s favor. You’re accepted, you’re loved, unconditionally, just as your are, right now, independent of your ability to live up to all these legalistic standards. It’s a whole new world, a whole new age. You are completely free from all that old stuff, and you already have God’s blessings and favor. It’s yours now. And you don’t have to do anything to have it except believe it. That’s the good news!

So why are we so serious, so religious, so legalistic about our relationship with God — even after two thousand years — when it’s so simple? In a single word, the heart of the good news is freedom. Freedom from ANY rule or protocol or standard of behavior required to enjoy the company of the Creator of the Universe in your normal, day-to-day life.

Real Life
But what does look like in real life? Simplicity itself.

You know those rules people told you about, things you had to do to please God? Or those things you weren’t doing, and that’s why God wasn’t pleased with you? Throw them all out.

You know how you were told you couldn’t wear too much make-up because it would displease God? Or how your hair was too long? Or that that tattoo you had on your arm was a sin? Or your dress was too short, or your ear was pierced too many times? Or how you went dancing last night, or had too many drinks — or that you had a drink at all? It’s all garbage. To use the language of the Old Testament, that shirt you are wearing was made from two types of fabric: you’re a sinner. You cut the hair at the corners of your head. God is displeased. The tassels on your shirt are not showing in public — you failed. You walked too far on the Sabbath. You must die. You didn’t bring your whole tithe into God’s house — you are cursed. You ate shrimp for dinner last night — you are an abomination. You had pepperoni on your pizza — you must be outcast and shunned. Or — hold on to your hats, ladies and gentlemen — the person you love is the same gender as you. You are abhorrent to God, and your blood is on your own hands. Rubbish. It’s all garbage.

That’s why the Apostle Paul, who used to be one of the biggest legalists of his time, could say, “God made you alive with Christ. He forgave us all our sins. He canceled the written code that was against us and that stood opposed to us, with all its regulations. He took it away, nailing it to the cross. … Therefore do not let anyone judge you by what you eat or drink …” (Col 2:13-16).

News Flash
The great news flash of Jesus is this: none of these rules has ANY intrinsic spiritual value. Not one of these can make you holy, and none of these has the power to make you unholy. The good news is that you are free from all these regulations and standards. And anyone who tries to impose these on you again as a way of pleasing God is a liar, a prison-keeper, someone who wants to put you in chains — against the very Declaration of Freedom Jesus himself proclaimed.

You are FREE from the prison of religious rules and restrictions.
You are RELEASED from the oppression of other people’s expectations of your life as a way of having a relationship with the God who loves you.
The true image of your Father is RESTORED – one who accepts you, loves you, without any condition. And that blindness which kept you from seeing his true nature, which always made you think he was angry with you — it’s gone.
And on top you your total freedom, here’s the bonus. You walk in God’s FAVOR, whether you feel like it or not.

You were poor because all this freedom was kept from you. You walked alone in the misery of your life because religious people all around you told you that you had to take on the burden of all these rules and laws of “godly living” in order to have the blessings that are already yours.

This is the good news. You are FREE. You are FAVORED. And when you walk in that simple, uncomplicated relationship with the Father who loves you, you will slowly begin fulfilling “godly standards” automatically. You won’t want to kill or steal. You won’t want to disrupt the beauty of someone’s marriage by having an affair with one of the spouses. You won’t want to gossip or bad-mouth your boss or that irritating co-worker because you know in your heart how hurtful that is. You’ll start feeling compassion for your neighbor who’s trying to deal with screaming kids. You’ll be concerned about that old woman down the street who can’t afford groceries. As you walk in the freedom of God’s love, your heart will be transformed. Any code of behavior that God is concerned about will be written on your heart, and you’ll do them naturally as you grow. No rules. No one telling you what you must do. Just natural living. Free.

The good news is it’s already done. The time has come. Your King has arrived – and he wants an intimate relationship with you! You can have peace with God, you can have the wonders of his friendship, and it all comes without a rulebook. The good news is you can tear up that old rulebook and throw it in the garbage where it belongs.

Anything else is worthless. It’s nothing more than legalistic prison. You are free. You are released. You can see God as he is. And he is already pleased with you: you already walk in his favor. Because of Jesus, there’s nothing you need to do except believe it.

And that’s good news worth celebrating!

There I was, minding my own business, innocently browsing through endless Facebook posts from my infinite number of friends (never been more popular in my entire life!), and I noticed that one buddy in a moment of excitement and adoration wrote out the doxology as his status.

“Praise God to whom all blessings flow. Praise him all creatures here below. Praise him above, ye heavenly hosts. Praise Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Only he got one word wrong — as some of you may have already noticed.  I grew up in church where we sang this almost every Sunday, so it jumped off the screen at me.  And it’s always those little windows of time when you see something old in a new light that spark fresh insights.  That one little word makes a huge difference.

“From whom” not “to whom.”

Big deal; who cares?  Okay, call me knit-picky, but it effects how we view God, how we view our relationship to him — how we view life.  God deserves our praise, to be sure.  And my mom taught me at a young age the incredible power that is released into our lives when we praise God in the middle of our difficult circumstances.  There’s value in that; it’s honorable to send your blessings to God.  As that cranky old oatmeal commercial guy used to say, “it’s the right thing to do.”

But we miss a powerful point about the character of God and his amazing love for us if we get that word wrong.  “Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights, who does not change like the shifting shadows”, James tells us.  God is a generous God, a giving God. One who pours out good stuff on us, just because he loves us.  And he doesn’t quit when we mess up.  He doesn’t change his mind.  Like that powerful revelation in Exodus when he proclaims his name to Moses: “The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love … (Ex 34:6).

That good stuff is for us.  And if we miss that point, we’re missing out on some jaw-dropping grace, some amazing love, some unheard-of favor.  Not because of who we are, or the fact that we’re constantly buttering him up with our praise.  Just because that’s who he is.

“Praise God from whom all blessings flow.”  That’s your heritage.  That’s your birthright.  We can love him all the more because of his love for us, because he is constantly pouring out blessings — even when we don’t see or feel them.

“Praise God from whom all blessings flow.” That one little word can turn your whole day around.

Opening scenes are important. You miss ‘em, and you may miss the key element in everything that follows. Like an Agatha Christie mystery. The ending won’t make sense if you skipped the early pages introducing the main characters.

Okay, I’ll admit I can’t recall ever having actually read an Agatha Christie novel, but I’ve seen the Murder on the Orient Express movie. That counts, doesn’t it?

The same goes for the Bible. Now, before you go “oh, that Bible stuff again”, hold on for a second. This could be important — maybe even life-changing. Faith and a relationship with God may not occupy center stage in your life as it does with some of us fanatics, but I’ll bet you’ve got some thoughts about God, about who he is, what he likes and dislikes, whether or not he’s tallying merits and demerits on his infinite abacus. What’s the first image that comes to mind when someone mentions “God”?

And that’s the point. Most of us get it wrong. Our impressions are based on images from Renaissance art, or Hollywood movies, or (even worse) fire and brimstone preachers. Church can really mess you up sometimes if you let it. And, frankly, a lot of those preachers don’t know much more about God than you do — I mean really, his personality and character, his heart, not just Bible facts and head-stuff. If they did, we’d see a lot more water-into-wine miracles happening all around us, a lot more Hanukah lamp-oil generation, and a lot less public stonings.

So let’s go back to the opening scenes. Let’s let God introduce himself. Scrap the images we’ve been carrying around most of our lives about what God is like, and let him tell you himself. What does God want you to think about him?

Act I, Scene i
Famous first words — everybody knows them: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” Book of Genesis, chapter one, verse one. And we could camp out here for a while, but I am especially moved by the next sentence. “Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.”

There’s an image for you. “Hovering.” The Spirit of God was hovering over it all, over the mass of chaos and emptiness. And out of that mess, he brought order and life. Good life. (And if you happen to be going through some chaos in your own life right about now, that simple thought may hold the key to keeping you sane.) This is who God is. This is how he introduces himself. The hovering one.

The English language doesn’t do this justice. The word used there is a rare one in Hebrew. It only occurs 3 times in the entire Hebrew Bible, and those other references paint a powerful picture of what’s going on here. The image is the protective action of a bird, caring for its young, wings spread over them in the nest, fluttering. In fact, that is a better translation than “hovering”: fluttering. The other reference in Deuteronomy describes this protective love God has for his people: “In the desert God found Jacob, in a barren and howling waste. He shielded him and cared for him; he guarded him as the apple of his eye, like an eagle that stirs up its nest and hovers over its young, that spreads its wings to catch them and carries them on its pinions” (Dt 32:11). (The third passage, Jer 23:9, reads “all my bones tremble…”, reinforcing the “fluttering” action inherent in the word.) God introduces himself, as soon as he steps onto the stage, as the protective, caring one. His Spirit flutters over the empty stuff of time and space, and embracing it between wings of love, transforms it, nurtures it into his beloved creation. This is your God. This is how he wants you to see him.

Another Self-Revelation
Later in the story, when Moses is dealing with the harsh realities of leading a strong and stubborn people, he confronts God and demands a greater revelation of him. Kind of like “If these are your people, then I’m gonna need to know you better so I can lead them better.” He wants to see God face to face. Of course God knows this would kill him; Moses would vaporize in the unfiltered presence of full glory. So God puts him in a cleft in the side of a mountain, covers him protectively with his hand, and then passes by, declaring his name, revealing himself to Moses: “The LORD, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands, and forgiving wickedness, rebellion, and sin. Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished…” (Ex 34:6). God describes himself in the way he wants to be perceived and understood by us. Compassionate. Gracious. Overflowing with love and faithfulness. Loyal. Forgiving. And Just.

How have we missed this? How have we turned this loving, protective, caring, compassionate and gracious God into something other than that? How have we turned him into a vindictive, white-bearded and cranky old man, catching us in every fault, every sin, every failing and mistake? Maybe it’s human nature. We know God is perfect, and our imperfections are glaring in comparison. We think he must be angry or displeased or at the very least disappointed by our shortcomings. But, as King David once noticed, he knows that we are but dust, he knows we fail. And he loves us anyway. He eagerly accepts us back into his presence — full of grace, compassion and love.

The Final Word
God’s own people may be the worst at misunderstanding him. Jesus one day stood with his protégés in the Temple of Jerusalem, surrounded by religious people, some hungry, some self-satisfied. And he called out with aching heart, “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem. You who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you. How often I have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. But you were not willing…” (Mt 23:37). As he faced rejection by the people he came to love, Jesus again and again showed the heart of the Father, even in the very choice of his words. He longed — and continues to long — to gather us under his wings of love. Yet we are so often not willing. We don’t get it. But this is your God. This is how he wants you to see him.

We may have missed this introduction. We may have skimmed past it, or may have never seen the spotlight shining on him as he bursts onto the stage of creation and into our personal lives. But this is the description of the main character in history. Hovering — fluttering — over us, gently caring for us as a bird sheltering its young under loving parental wings. This is the Eternal Father, the LORD, the compassionate and gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in love, full of forgiveness. If we miss this crucial character profile, we’ll read the rest of the book with the wrong impression. We’ll walk through our day to day lives seeing God as someone other than he really is.

Opening scenes are important. They set the tone for the rest of the story. And sometimes we need to go back to page one to get it right.

I was just sitting here, minding my own business, cup of coffee in hand, browsing through various news stories that posted headlines on Facebook, and an otherwise insignificant blurb made me angry.

The article was about an advertising company in Australia reversing its decision to pull an HIV Prevention ad from local buses. They’d run it, gotten some negative backlash from the public, so they pulled the ads. Then, after a second wave of public outcry at the recall, they reinstated it. Simple business flip-flop. The ad was sponsored by the Queensland Association for Healthy Communities, and the image was of two men embracing, holding an unopened condom. Pretty tame stuff compared to what people see on TV these days. What was the big deal? The photo wasn’t shockingly offensive, and the purpose was to save lives, so what was all the hooplah about?

Those pushy Christians were at it again. Turns out that the initial complaints came from a certain “Christian lobby”, trying to control the world again. Once the company realized it was a targeted political campaign by this group, they reversed course and put the ads back up.

And I thought, doesn’t the Church have anything better to do? Isn’t this exactly why people never turn to the Church when they are in real spiritual need? The world — people, real human beings — see the Church as a bizarre  organization full of angry people bent on putting society into a strangle-hold to preserve some artificial traditional values as though they originated on Mt Sinai. Is this what the Kingdom of God has become all about? People so focused on gaining power over others, controlling TV, schools, making laws about who other people can or cannot love and build families with? Since when has Jesus’ commission been to become the “God police”? No wonder nobody outside the Church takes the Church seriously.

The Great Commission is and has always been to make disciples. And the purpose was not to build a society of religious clones, marching to the same tune of morality and religious beliefs. The point was to bring lost and hungry people back into a relationship with a God who loves them.

When Christians fail in this mission — or substitute some other agenda in its place — the inevitable (and only) result is a mockery, an empty shell of ritual and tradition. One might as well paint “Ichabod” over the buildings in huge red letters — “God doesn’t live here anymore.”
Church folks regularly bemoan the exodus of the youth. Congregations become greyer and more wrinkled, as younger generations see the Church as irrelevant, out of step, offering nothing. Holier saints pray for revival, expressing their desire for this generation to see the moving of God with power as they may have seen in years long since passed. But then they load upon their brothers and sisters a burden of rules, regulations, traditions, and lifestyles — legalism, by any other name — and wonder why no one is pounding on the church doors to get in.

When we, as believers, focus less on eliminating “safe sex” advertisements from public buses, and start focusing more on the hurt, on those in need, on introducing those who hunger and thirst for “something more” to a God who loves and embraces them, that’s when we’ll see those days of “power” again. That’s when the Spirit of God will move again in our congregations in ways that caused previous generations to impact their neighborhoods and cities. Not by laws. Not by protests and targeted email campaigns. But by the Spirit. When we get back to what’s actually important to the heart of God, that’s where the Presence of God will manifest.

If we want a “real” move of God, if we want the “real thing”, then we’ve got to start focusing on what’s “really important” to Him. And that won’t be protesting civil union laws in Illinois, or condom ads in Australia. It will be getting back, once again, to the primitive message of “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me and drink …” Maybe then the world will start taking Christianity and the Church seriously again. And until that time, we don’t deserve their attention.

“Jacob left Beersheba and set out for Haran” (Gen 28:10).

What could be possibly one of the most boring verses in the entire Bible suddenly jumped out at me with such intensity and meaning, I just had to stop and stare at it for a while.

Jacob was a weasel. He was a trickster, somebody well-skilled in passive-aggressive behavior. He was a mama’s boy and a manipulator. He let people walk all over him. He was weak and wimpy. And I’m sure he was full of insecurities and self-doubts, and maybe even a little self-hatred. (Hey, kinda like a lot of us!) But he was also a man with a destiny. He had a role to fill in divine history, and God wasn’t gonna let a few personality flaws interfere with his ultimate plans.

So there he was, hanging out in Beersheba, a dusty little spot on the map, barren of life and luxury except for some scrub grass suitable only for livestock and a few wells his grandfather had dug. Not the kind of place to build a name for yourself. Not even the kind of place to build much of a life. But he wasn’t stopping there. He was on his way to Haran, a rich, exotic city sitting on the trade routes of civilization, looking for a wife and his future. Caravans carrying goods from Mesopotamia to Egypt, from Persia to what is now Turkey passed through that city, and it was known for it’s gold, spices, and precious stones. He was going from the southern most outpost of fertile land to the excitement of the big city in the north. But it wasn’t the city that held the key to his destiny. It was the journey itself.

“When he reached a certain place, he stopped for the night …”
For many of us on the journey to new life and purpose, we overlook this important aspect: sometimes you just gotta stop moving, and camp out for a while. Something was about to happen to Jacob — he was hours away from that famous vision of angels ascending and descending the ladder between earth and God, a new revelation of God and about himself — and if he’d forced himself beyond that resting spot, if he’d continued his journey through the night in a hurry to get where he was going, he would have missed it. Like him, most of us tend to be restless. We’re running ahead at full steam, trying to escape (or at least change) our current situation, and reach the next stage of life, something better and more meaningful. But if we don’t slow down, if we don’t take advantage of our current situation, if we don’t learn whatever it is we’re supposed to glean from the present experience, we won’t be ready for that next step. Sometimes we have to slow down enough to listen.  And for once, perhaps for the first time in his life, Jacob doesn’t blow the opportunity. He rests. And then God speaks.

“I am the LORD, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac.”
What’s missing here? Those of us who grew up in Sunday School can fill in the blanks. The title always goes “the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” But that hasn’t happened yet. Jacob already had some years and experience under his belt, but he hadn’t come fully into himself yet. He hadn’t realized his full identity, nor had he developed a satisfactory relationship with God. His faith was still with the God of his fathers — or to put in another way, it was his parents’ religion. He had yet to really make it his own. But it’s during this journey that all that changes. It’s in the desert, in the sand, in the middle of nowhere on his way to somewhere, that God becomes real to him. And his life is changed from that moment on. After this trip, the God of Abraham and Isaac becomes the God of Jacob.   A new relationship, a divine partnership, is born.  And when that happens, nothing remains the same.

“I will give you and your descendants the land … You will spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. And all peoples on earth will be blessed through you …”
It’s here, at this place of camping out, this place of quiet resting, at a break in the running, that Jacob gets the promise of the destiny he’s been looking for. God assures him that he will ultimately come into his own: he’ll inherit the land. But more than that, the purpose of his life is suddenly made clear: through him the whole earth will be blessed. It’s at this moment, at that rest-stop on the journey, that his life suddenly comes into focus. He is somebody. He has hope and a future. He is worth something.  All that scheming and manipulation, that striving for recognition and favor, the tricks and deceit, even his passive weakness, have not disqualified him from a purpose-filled and fulfilling life.  His mess-ups couldn’t shake the love and favor of God for him.

And on top of that, God promises to watch over him: “I am with you, and will watch over you wherever you go … I will never leave you …”  A new depth and quality to his life appeared out of nowhere in that moment.  It’s the breakthrough he needed in his quiet desperation, proof that his life had significance, that the world would be a better, more blessed place because of him.

His story continues, and a few chapters past this passage is another well-known event in his journey. It’s years later. He’s arrived in Haran, married the woman of his dreams (actually, got four women in the process), had eleven sons, and with God’s favor had become prosperous, despite his flawed character. And on one lonely night, still seeking to fill the void in his soul, he wrestles with a divine stranger till daybreak (Gen 32:24). Even though he’d achieved many of his goals — the love of a life-partner, a family of his own, the successful business — he’s still longing for deeper fulfillment. And he refuses to let the stranger go until he gets something from him: “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” But that’s exactly what the divine visitor came to do, and he gives Jacob a new name: “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with men.” That life of constant struggle — deep within himself, with others around him, his family, and with God — God uses as material to forge his new identity. Though his journey in life would continue on for many more years, that part of the search for identity was finally complete. He now knew who he was, and what he was all about.

And none of this would have happened if he’d stayed in the dust bowl of Beersheba, if he hadn’t left his father’s house in search of his destiny.

For many of us, this is the story of our lives.
We’re restless and wanting more. We feel dissatisfied and unfulfilled where we are right now, and we have this nagging feeling in our guts that “there has to be more than just this.” There is.  A lot more. Your job is not done; your life is not stalled out. You are not stuck in the mud, or in the rut of your day to day grind. For those wanting more, there is new purpose and greater significance; there is a coming into your true identity, becoming all you were meant to be; there’s a deeper relationship with God, and a more fulfilling destiny — something bigger than yourself, something that will impact the world around you.   But it all happens along the way. It happens in the journey.

So don’t stop pressing. Don’t stop seeking God for more. Take advantage of where you are now, learn what you can, grow in the place where you’re planted — you’re more likely to hear the revelation you need to get you to the next step when you’re still enough to listen.  But don’t think that’s where your journey ends. You may be in a dusty spot, hanging out by a few wells of water, surrounded by little more than herds of sheep and goats, but Haran is calling. The fullness of your God-designed identity and destiny still await you. And this is God’s promise to you, as well as to Jacob. Don’t quit. Don’t give up. You’re gonna make it. You’re on the road from the dust bowl to your destiny.

————

Kindle readers: You may now get Cafe Inspirado content downloaded directly to your Kindle. (Amazon.com charges a small monthly delivery fee.)  Click here to order.

Shabbat Shalom, y'all

I grew up hating Sundays. (My poor mom is probably feeling all guilty about that now. Sorry, mom.)

Sunday was church day. It was “the Lord’s Day”, and we were supposed to honor God by getting dressed up, sitting through tedious (to me) sermons, singing some dreary songs, spending the afternoon quietly resting (impossible for us kids), and then enduring another church service in the evening. And, seemingly all too often, the day ended with an after-service scolding for bad behavior during church. I couldn’t wait for Monday to roll around again.

Somehow we got the impression that Sunday was reserved for somber activity. It was not to be profaned. It even had one of the big 10 Commandments protecting it. It wasn’t until I got to spend a lot of time with Jewish friends that I discovered the heart of the Sabbath.

Okay, first, let’s dispense with the academics. Yeah, Sunday is not technically the Sabbath. Saturday is. So, can we Christians get off our high horse about protecting the “holy day” considering we’ve even got the wrong day? And “the Lord’s Day” does not mean the day belongs to the Lord — everyday belongs to the Lord. That term came into use during the earliest days of the Church to commemorate the day Jesus was resurrected, and mostly among Gentile believers. Jesus’ first disciples were all Jewish, and they continued celebrating the Sabbath on Saturday like Jesus had done.

Honestly, though, I don’t think God is terribly concerned about the correctness of the day. He is more concerned that we honor its purpose and intent. That we take a much-needed break from doing our normally scheduled routine, that “sweat of the brow” stuff, and use the day to re-energize, relax, enjoy some peace, get back in touch with real priorities in life, and even renew our connection with him. It’s a day when we’re not preoccupied with everyday chores and concerns. So, with that in mind, here’s a little gift of liberty to my hard-working friends: if you can’t take off work every Sunday (or Saturday), use whatever day you do have off as your Sabbath. Going to church or temple is not a requirement of the day; it’s just a perk.

And here’s another key distinction: the Sabbath is for “celebrating”, not sitting around, “quietly resting” as though we were in mourning. My Jewish friends would gather for a huge Friday night dinner (Shabbat begins sundown Friday and ends sundown Saturday). Fresh flowers would be on the table. Candles would be lit. There’d be prayer, thanking God for the food and for the gift of the Sabbath, recognizing how he sanctified it, setting it apart, for special use. And then there’d be wine, and good food, laughter, talking, enjoying each other’s company, and maybe even dancing. We “honored” the Sabbath by celebrating it as a holiday. So much so, in fact, that it’s tradition to eat three festive meals during the day. It is a gift from God for our enjoyment. As Jesus himself reminded us, “Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath” (Mk 2:27).

Sure, there are some restrictions on the day. That’s part of its purpose. My religiously observant friends wouldn’t drive on the Sabbath. They wouldn’t cook — that’s work, so all meal preparations were done the day before so we could just enjoy the day. Some of them wouldn’t watch TV or carry things. As a Christian embracing liberty as my spiritual right, I sometimes found some of their personal choices a bit over the top, but that was their way of ensuring they reaped the full benefit of the peace of the day. “Shabbat Shalom”, the blessing spoken to each other, is a hope and a prayer that we would find sufficient grace and peace to restore us and equip us for the coming week. And that, I firmly believe, is what is in the heart of God when he instructed us to “keep the Sabbath”.

It’s not about being quiet. It’s not about whether you watch football on TV or go to the movies on this holy day. And (sorry, Pastor), it’s not even about whether you make it to church or synagogue. It’s about taking time off to gather together, enjoy each other, and enjoy God in our company (that’s where church fellowship can be a special blessing). It’s about recognizing this amazing gift of grace given to us — a day every week when we can shift gears, slow down, reconnect, and celebrate life. God planned it that way from the beginning. And not just for my Jewish friends. For all of us — it was given to Adam and Eve before there was any such thing as Jew or non-Jew. It’s our birthright as humans, for anyone who will receive it as part of God’s design for us.

“If you keep your feet from breaking the Sabbath, … if you call the Sabbath a delight, and the LORD’s holy day honorable, … then you will find your joy in the LORD …”, the prophet Isaiah tells us (Isa 58:13-14).

It’s about joy. It’s about rest and reconnecting. It’s a celebration of life. The Sabbath is a “delight”! And we should treat as such.

So … Shabbat Shalom, everybody. May whatever day you choose as your Sabbath be one of joy and refreshment, family and friends, good food and fellowship. It’s your inheritance from God. Enjoy it.

Weird thing happened the other day. I was scrolling through a bunch of statuses on Facebook, glancing at comments by friends I know pretty well, some I know hardly at all, and organizations and churches that I “like” or am somehow associated with. And I ran across two or three statuses that kinda reminded me of car dealership commercials on TV. “Need to make some last minute tax deductible donations before the end of the year? Consider our church …” And me, still battling issues with impulse control, rapidly snapped off a comment about how sad that was; “if you have to ask, then maybe you’re doing something wrong …”

Okay, not the most gracious thing I could have done. It just struck me as so commercial, so off track, churches asking for money. Looking back on that now, I’m almost surprised that I was even surprised by that. We’d all been burned by the constant money-begging on Christian television, and I guessed we’d all moved past that. My thinking: “If you were really doing the work of God, the provision would automatically be there already, right?” But some of my friends didn’t mind those offending statuses at all. Operational expenses weren’t automatically met by generous donors acting as the hand of God. How else are these organizations going to keep doing the good work unless they ask for support? “You have not because you ask not …”, as one friend reminded me.

Hmm. My friends were probably correct. But I was still left with that sour taste in my mouth. Something about this just isn’t right.

Then I happened across the profile of a pastor friend of mine, and noticed that he’d gone back to school to pick up some technical training and certification. He already had a college degree (in the non-money making field of Biblical Studies), but was now needing more (other) training to make a living. That really hit me — with a sadness that overshadowed my earlier offense at those solicitation requests. And I was suddenly struck by how many pastors I know who have to be bi-vocational. They’ve accepted the call of God to tend his people, and they’re carrying the joys and responsibilities of that task nearly full-time. They teach. They spend time daily preparing their sermons and lessons. They pray, spending time keeping their spiritual ears tuned to God, lifting the needs of their flock before the Eternal Throne. They counsel hurting people on the phone. They visit the sick in the hospital, they answer phone calls in the middle of the night, they meet people who just “need to talk” for lunch, for dinner, for breakfast, for coffee. They go to endless meetings: meetings in the community, meetings at the church, networking with other organizations that effect the community they shepherd. They’re touching lives and making an impact. And they do all this joyfully. They love it. They find purpose and fulfillment in it. Well, most of it, anyway.

But then they have to go to their “other job” to pay their bills, to put food on their table, to have medical insurance. And family life? Those blessed with spouse or children hardly get to spend any time with them at all.

Sacrifice, I think, we all expect of our holy men and women. Sacrifice is part of the call.

But what about us? What about those of us on the receiving end of all this sacrifice? We gladly spend time with our pastors; we’re quick to call them when we need them, when we’ve lost our job, or when our child is sick or a relative was taken suddenly to the Emergency Room. And we’re thrilled that we finally found a church where we belong, where we fit, where we can reap the rich benefits of good teaching and spiritual community. And, thank God, our pastor never annoys us with sermons on giving. Thank God he’s not out for our money.

I’m all about grace. I’m all about liberty and freedom from religious obligation. We’ve received such a treasure in the Kingdom of God. We’re free. We owe no man any obligation, we’re under no pressure to conform, to live up to other people’s religious expectations of us. This is our heritage. This is our right as children of the King. But in celebrating our liberty, have we forgotten the responsibility that comes with it? Being the beneficiaries of such extravagant grace and liberty, aren’t we also under the obligation to help others come into their inheritance? Aren’t we also to share in the burden of ministry? The Apostle Paul said that anyone who receives instruction in the Word must also share all good things with his instructor (Gal 6:6). That is, if we are blessed, if we enjoy the freedom we’ve been taught to walk in, then we must financially support those who led us to this place of grace. We must take care of our shepherds. As Jesus himself told us, “the workman is worthy of his keep” (Mt 10:10).

And more than that. What about the work itself? That “Great Commission” thing was given to all of us. Most of us don’t have the gifts, the abilities, or the time to make this our primary function in life. But we can participate by supporting those who do.

As Paul again tells us, everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved — this relationship with God, this freedom, belongs to everyone.
But how can people call on someone they’ve never heard of?
And how can they hear unless someone teaches them?
And how can someone teach unless they are sent? (Rom 10:13-15)

Those of us not called to bear the sacrifice of full time ministry must pick up the slack and support those who are. “How can they preach unless they are sent?” That is our job: to “send” them.

Those few Facebook statuses requesting year-end donations are an embarrassment. But not for the organizations requesting them, as I at first thought. They are an indictment against us, against those of us who reap the benefit of all the great teaching, of all the comfort and encouragement our pastors lavish on us, against all of us who enjoy the warm fellowship of community our shepherds have created for us. Those people and organizations on the frontlines, plowing the road for us, making our lives easier, those taking the Good News of restored relationship with God to people and places who still need to hear it — why are they carrying this burden all alone?

Paul continues: “How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!” (Rom 10:15). We can be beautiful too. We can share in the blessing by sharing in the responsibility.

Our preachers may be reluctant to lay the burden on us. You may not hear pleas from the pulpit for financial support for all the ministries and services we take for granted, for all the words that have changed our lives. But as people who enjoy royal citizenship, we need to step up and take more seriously the duties of that citizenship. Wherever we have benefited, whoever has enriched us — we owe them our lives.

I wish I’d never have to see one of those solicitations again. Not because these ministries need our support to continue the work, but because we degrade them by making them beg. They shame me. They shame the Church. They remind us that we are lazy, ungrateful, and selfish. They’re a finger gently pointing in our faces that we are not shouldering our share of the job. We need to do better. And I promise, from now on, I will.

“A tree is known by its fruit,” Jesus tells us.  If we’ve enjoyed the fruit, we should support the tree.

I was watching an episode of West Wing the other day, and Toby, the sulky, dark, idealistic character, quotes an Italian proverb to C.J, the Press Secretary: Quando dio vuole castigarci ci manda quello che desideriamo — “When the gods wish to punish us, they answer our prayers.”

Interesting quote. But it got me thinking: Thank God, my God is not like that.

It reminds me of something we hear all the time in pious circles: don’t ask God for patience. Patience comes through suffering — and you sure don’t want that.

You know, I suppose there is some biblical basis for that statement. Doesn’t James tell us, “the testing of your faith develops perseverance”? Sure, we can learn patience through suffering and difficulty, but isn’t it also one of the fruits of the Spirit? “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Gal 5:22). It’s a characteristic that is developed in us by God’s Spirit as we mature. Maybe it doesn’t always have to come as the result of long suffering. Maybe God isn’t always that harsh: “I want you to grow up, so I’m gonna throw a bunch of hardship your way …”

I’d rather think of God in the terms Jesus described him. “Who among you who, when your son asks for a loaf of bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!” (Mt 7:9-11).

What kind of parent would say, “Ah, son, Ah daughter. You ask for a good thing, like patience, so I must torture you now”? The same goes for other things in our lives. If we ask for something that might harm us, do we think God would punish us by actually giving it to us? What kind of Father is that?

What if we take the flipside of Jesus’ saying? “If your hungry son asks for stone, won’t you give him bread instead? If he ignorantly asks for a serpent, will you give it to him? If he mistakenly asks for a scorpion, won’t you give him an egg for breakfast instead? If you, as messed up as you are, wouldn’t give something harmful or dangerous to your children even when they ask, how much more would your Father in heaven also not do such a thing?”

We gotta stop thinking of God as some kind of impersonal machine, dolling out trouble when we ask for a virtue because that’s the formula: trouble leads to patience. This God, who loves us so much he actually came down to physically walk and talk with us in the flesh, we gotta stop seeing as a ruthless, heartless Cosmic Force.

If I ask for something that might harm me, if I’m desperately praying for an answer that might actually be dangerous for me, or cause me greater pain, I’m comforted to know that my Father — a wise and loving parent — cares enough to say “No”. He has no problem saying, “you don’t need that now” or “no, that’s not good for you — you can’t have that.”

I wanna turn that Italian proverb upside down. This is the truth I embrace. “When God wishes to bless us, he doesn’t always answer our prayers.” I’m happy God sometimes says “no.”

Just something to chew on …

Okay, I know I’m sticking my foot into it now, ’cause I’m guilty of this most of the time myself. But how many times do we lay claim to a deep spirituality and a love for God yet turn a blind eye to the difficulties of other people around us? In my case, it looks more like “sure, I’d love to sit with you and chat about deep theological issues, but if you don’t mind, please don’t trouble me with your messy life.”

You know that story of the Good Samaritan in the Bible? It’s a bit troubling to me. I don’t like it, because it places demands on me that are inconvenient. But here’s the bottom line: if you want a real relationship with the Eternal God, it will only go as far as your involvement with other people.

In that story, in Luke 10, a religious expert comes to Jesus and asks his advice. “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Sounds heavy, but really the guy is just expressing the emptiness he’s feeling inside. He knew his Bible; he lived it as best he could. He was an expert. But something was still missing; he knew it, but he just didn’t know what it was. So he asks the guy who had become famous for his connection with Heaven, who’d healed all kinds of diseased and injured people, who’d set people free from dark forces in their lives. Surely, he would know. And Jesus, being the good Jewish rabbi that he was, turns the question back on the man: “What is written in the Torah; how do you read it?” And the man responds with the classic and correct answer: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength, and with all your mind, and love your neighbor as yourself.” “That’s right,” Jesus affirmed, “do this and you’ll have life.”

Standard Answers Won’t Do

But it was the standard answer the man knew his entire life. And it wasn’t enough. So he probes deeper, “but who is my neighbor?” Basically, I believe the man is asking Jesus to show him how to make it work. “What does this look like in real life? How am I supposed to do this?”

And then comes the famous parable. A man is walking from Jerusalem to Jericho and gets way-laid on the road by robbers. He’s beaten and left half dead on the side of the road. Two religious types, a priest and a Levite, walk by, see him laying there, and cross over to the other side of the street to avoid him. But a Samaritan sees him and has pity on him. He walks over to him, cleans his wounds with wine and oil, bandages him up, places him on his donkey and takes him to an inn where he pays the inn-keeper to care for him. Which of these acted as a neighbor to the beaten man? Obviously, the Samaritan. The point is simple enough, and the religious expert gets it.

Catch the Details

But there is some really rich subtlety in this story we might easily miss. Jesus describes the beaten traveler as “half dead”, and I’m struck by his choice of words. I think they’re deliberate. After all, the original question he was asked concerned obtaining eternal life. So the word-play involving life and death would be striking. And our impression of the two men in the story who walked by, ignoring the injured man, would naturally be one of revulsion. “How cold-hearted. How hypocritical. And they call themselves ‘religious,’ that priest and Levite. That wounded man may be half dead, but those two guys are completely dead inside. The Samaritan, on the other hand, taking compassionate action to help the man, now he is fully alive, fully in-tune with his humanity. He’s the one with ‘true religion’; he’s obviously got a clue about what true godly life is all about.” In Jesus’ deliberate choice of words, we can already see what is involved in “inheriting eternal life.” It’s not about what happens to us after we die; it’s not just about life in the “age to come.” It’s about the quality of the life we live in the here and now. We can go around as religious zombies, dead to those around us, or we can live a rich, fulfilling life involved with others. When God’s life invades us, it will change the way we interact with people.

And look at what that Samaritan man actually does. He sees the beaten victim and is immediately moved by compassion. In the story, this is the first reference to any kind of emotion, any type of personal connection with the robbed man. The Samaritan is emotionally engaged in the situation and with his fellow human being. Next, he cleans and bandages the man’s wounds, he touches the man. He gets his hands dirty. He is now physically as well as emotionally involved in the man’s plight. Then he puts the man on his donkey and takes him to a place where he can recover. That means he has to walk. He gave up his own comfort to help the man; he readily puts up with the inconvenience. And finally, he even pays the man’s medical bills. This Samaritan was fully engaged in the situation — emotionally, physically, materially and financially. He knew what life was all about. He had what that original seeker was missing.

Full Impact

The full impact of this can be seen when we go back to the answer Jesus elicited from the religious leader. What is needed to participate in the divine life? “Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your strength … and love your neighbor as yourself.” In answer to the man’s follow-up question, “But how do I do this?”, Jesus shows that loving God is inseparable from loving people. If we are supposed to love God with all our hearts, minds, souls, and strength, then those are exactly the same qualities we must use to involve ourselves with others. Like the Samaritan, we must love others with all our hearts, souls, minds, and strength. That is what loving God is really about.

To put it another way, “If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but closes his heart against him, how can the love of God be in him?” … “If anyone says ‘I love God’ yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen. … Whoever loves God must also love his brother” (1 John 3:17; 4:20-21).

Interestingly, in the Gospel account, Jesus turns the religious man’s question around. Instead of asking “who is my neighbor,” we should be asking, “who can I be a neighbor to?” You can’t claim to have a deep sense of spirituality or a great love for God while at the same time ignoring the needs of people around you. To love God, you must love your neighbor, you must be fully engaged with those around you — emotionally, physically, materially and financially: with your heart, your soul, your mind and your strength. In a word, it’s about relationships. It’s about real human-to-human involvement. If we want a more meaningful life that only a closer walk with God can bring, that’s what we must do. “Now go, and do likewise,” Jesus tells us.

So the next time someone asks you to help them move, you may just have to double-check your initial reaction. “Help you move? Of course I will.”

I’ve been seeing something lately that’s always been there, and maybe I’ve even known it by another name, but it’s become fresh, more meaningful and more powerfully inviting.

It’s the impression of Jesus’ deep desire to enlist more people into partnership with him in the mission of freeing people, helping them, and letting them know how much they are loved by Heaven. In a hurting world desperate for answers but met only by empty religious duties and regulations, or a culture overflowing with overzealous morality, this mission is as vital now as much as ever.

It’s not about soul-winning. It’s not about Christian duty. It’s not about transforming society or even populating heaven.  It’s about tapping into divine power to meet the needs of those around us. It’s about feeding those who are hungry — in a spiritual as well as physical sense — and easing the pain and hopelessness of people who are harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd (Mt 9:36; Num 27:15-17).  We see this in Jesus’ heart-felt plea to his followers, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into his harvest field” (Mt 9:37-38). Immediately after saying this, he sends them out into the surrounding towns and villages with instructions to drive out evil spirits, heal the sick, and proclaim that the Kingdom of Heaven had arrived. There were so many in need, the burden was too much for him to carry alone.  And he wanted his closest friends to share in the task and with the same divine authority.

Like when Peter wanted to walk on water with Jesus, Jesus responds with characteristic encouragement: “Come on, try it out.”  He is not jealous of his divine prerogatives; he isn’t stingy with his power — especially when there are so many people needing help.  He WANTS us to jump in there with him, to take up the ball and run with it.  So many are depending on us.

You can hear this invitation to partnership when Jesus is faced with a tired and hungry crowd of 5000.  They followed him around, always wanting to hear more, see more, experience more of what he had to offer. And even when he was exhausted from the constant demand on him, he still had compassion on those who were clinging so desperately.  When his protégés wanted to send them away, he replies, “They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat” (Mt 14:16).  Instead of ignoring the need, Jesus delegates the responsibility to them.

When I read “they do not need to go away,” I hear him saying, “just because I’m tired doesn’t mean the work stops. I’m not the only one who can help. YOU do something about the problem.” Of course, his disciple panic. “How are we going to handle this? We only have a few loaves of bread and two measly fish.”  You can almost hear Jesus sigh as he tells them “bring them here to me.”  “Really? You’re still gonna make me do this by myself. Here, let me show you how.” Then he looks up to heaven, gives thanks to God for the resources (as small as they might be), and starts dividing the bread and fish into meal-sized portions.

But here’s the key: “Then he gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people.”  Jesus enlisted their help.  He brought his protégés into the miracle, as though saying “this is what you guys should have done.”  He needed their help, wanted it, even if it meant more hand-holding.  And his disciples distributed the food to everyone. With more coaching from the boss, they we able to meet the need of all those tired and hungry people.

And the result?  “They all ate and were satisfied.”  Catch this. This is the whole point of his invitation. When we partner with Jesus, when we take up his work — as he instructed, as he so earnestly desired — people are satisfied. They move from being needy, from being harassed and helpless, from being tired, desperate and hungry, to being content and fulfilled. It’s a restoring process, the on-going work of the Kingdom. And this is the work assigned to us. No one person can do the job by himself. Your local pastor cannot carry the weight alone. He cannot answer all the phone calls, he can’t visit everyone in the hospital, he can’t do all the counseling, or respond to all the requests for prayer. The work was never meant to be handled by a select few.  It was always intended to be shared by many — by all of us who claim to be Jesus’ followers.

The situation hasn’t changed. The need is great, the harvest is plentiful, but there are always too few workers. Why? Usually because we feel unqualified. We feel like it’s not our job, or that someone else is supposed to do it.  But this is not true, regardless of how inadequate we may feel.  The disciples didn’t feel up to the task; they constantly doubted their own abilities to meet the challenge.  And notice, Jesus NEVER gets on them for trying to do too much. He never criticizes them for wanting to help or even from being presumptuous enough to think they too could tap into divine power to handle situations.  His rebuke only came when they were being lazy or when they lacked the faith.  He attacked their sense of inferiority and inadequacy.  He was trying with all his energy to equip them to take on this great task of helping the people, of freeing them from lack, from bondage, from powerlessness, from fear, from oppression, from spiritual hunger, and from blindness to their great value to the Eternal King. And he knew he could not do it all himself. His job was to train us so we could carry on the work.  And it was the deepest cry of his heart: “send more workers!”  When he saw all the hurting people, he was moved with compassion and stirred to help them. And he longed for many more to come alongside him and join the battle.

That urgent invitation was not limited to those earliest disciple alone. His instructions echo on to us as well. The need is still great. The harvest is still plentiful. People are still hurting, and there is still so much work to be done.

We need to hear the words of Jesus again, this time as a personal invitation to participate in the miraculous. The world is waiting for it. People are counting on it. “They don’t need to go away. You feed them.”

Expect it. Just accept the fact that it’s gonna happen, and don’t let the threat of it stop you.  You will always encounter storms whenever you’re trying to cross over to the other side.  Of anything.

It’s a fact of life, illustrated so graphically in the Gospels when Jesus one days tells his close group of disciples, “Let’s go over to the other side of the lake” (Mark 4:35). He and his crew had just had a long day of teaching and healing and dealing with crowds of needy people, and he wanted to move on.  Maybe he was just looking to get away to a place where they could get some peace and quiet, or maybe he recognized that he was finished where he was and it was time to continue on to a new location. In either case, they climb into a boat, he immediately crashes into a deep sleep, and out of nowhere, a furious squall hits them.

Most of us going through changes in our lives can relate. Whether it’s one messy situation we’re escaping and trying to rebuild our lives, or it may be that we’ve achieved one set of goals and it’s time to step it up and move to the next phase of life, a lot of us are on the move.  And change is messy. Change is hard.  Change makes you vulnerable. And when you’re in transition, that is the point that storms will invariably be thrown at you to knock you off your course.  We can pick up a few survival lessons from this story.

Leaving the Crowds Behind
“Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him” (Mk 4:36). When you’re moving into a new stage of life, you’ve got to leave some stuff behind. Doesn’t matter if it’s just “stuff”, or it’s old situations, former friends or former nuisances. Whatever the case may be, one of the key principles is that there’s gonna be some separation from what you were surrounded with, what you were used to. You’ve gonna have to drop some stuff and some people in the process.

Matthew’s account of this same story adds some interesting details to this point (Mt 8:18-27).  Between the time Jesus gave the order to cross over and the time they actually climb into the boat, two would-be followers drop out. One, initially so enthusiastic, says “I’ll follow you wherever you go.” But Jesus warns him he’ll have to leave his source of security behind, that there will little comfort during the journey. “Foxes have holes and birds have nests, but I have no place to lay my head.” And we hear nothing more from this guy. I guess it was too much for him. Another guy says, “Hey, I want to follow you, but I’ve got to take care of my folks first.”  A valid enough excuse, even an honorable one. But it was an excuse none-the-less to not start the journey RIGHT NOW.  Jesus’ response: “Follow me, and let the dead bury their own dead.” Sounds harsh to our soft Western ears, but basically he was undercutting the guy’s excuse. “Unh unh, now is the time. Those future concerns will take care of themselves.”  Apparently, that didn’t make the guy very happy, and he vanishes from the scene.  No excuse is good enough.  The time is now. You’re supposed to move. You’ve got the order to cross over.  Stop making excuses.  The good news is that you won’t be alone. Jesus is in the boat with you. But not only that, “other boats” are making the crossing too.  The journey you’re supposed to be on isn’t meant to be traveled alone.  Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty of company. But this time, company going in the same direction and with the same goal as you.

Tempest in a Teapot
“A furious squall came up, and waves broke over the boat so that it was nearly swamped.” (Mk 4:37). The Sea of Galilee is a small lake, 7 miles wide by 14 miles long. But it’s surrounded by hills, and wind can whip calm water into roaring waves quite suddenly, like swirling water in a teapot. When you’re out in the middle of that, it can be quite terrifying.  You are at your most vulnerable when you’re in the middle of transition — when you’ve left the secure, familiar ground for a new shore. Sometimes you’ll be so preoccupied with the process of change that you’ll not notice the early signs of the storm, and it will catch you totally off guard and unprotected. (Matthew adds that the storm rose up “without warning.”)  But these guys should have been prepared for this. Several of them were fishermen who’d spent most of their lives on that lake. And we need to learn this lesson: we should expect a storm when we’re out in the boat, even if we don’t see any early signs of it.  That sudden squall will make us want to turn back, quit the journey, and head back to our former safe harbor. And realistically, that’s probably its purpose. To stop you. You’ve got people and unseen forces often wanting you to fail, resisting your every bold step forward.  You may get spooked, you may panic. You may want to quit.  But don’t.

“Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” (Mk 4:38). Isn’t that our typical response? I’ve been there, I’ve done that. It’s taken a whole lot of pushing to get me moved out of my comfortable position to venture out in this new direction, and often my first reaction in the face of this unexpected resistance is to question God.  “Don’t you see? Don’t you care?!”  The unexpected surprise of it has thrown off my momentum, and like those disciples I fall back and huddle in the corner of the boat. It’s human. It’s normal. But we need to grow past that and change how we react.

Tell it to Shut Up!
“Jesus got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’ Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to his disciples, ‘Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?’” (Mk 4:39). Come on, people. We may not be able to command the wind and the water like the Messiah (or at least not as effectively and immediately), but that wake-up call is to us as well.  We were told to get on the move. We were called up to a new place, commanded to cross over.  Resistance will come. The wind will howl, the waves will crash against us, even to the point of swamping us, overwhelming us. But with that divine command also came authority. And we need to train ourselves to use it.  We need to get aggressive. “Shut up. Stop that!”  Remember the Apostle Paul’s words, “we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against powers …”  We wrestle. It may take a little energy. When trouble comes — and if you’re on the move, it WILL come — don’t cower down. Don’t retreat or go back. Stand up, and with an assurance of the authority given to you inherent in your orders to move, resist it. Tell it to stop. And the powers of heaven will back you up. By yourself, you’re no match for the strength of those forces.  But that’s the beauty of authority. It’s not by your strength or by your power. Sometimes all you need to do is speak the word, and you’ll unleash the power of heaven to break into your situation. “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”  You’ve come this far. You can go back if you want, but you’ll forfeit so much.  Don’t lose faith, don’t get spooked by the resistance.  Deal with it.  Get tough with it.  Dispense with it quickly, then press on. Keep going.

After the storm quiets down, they arrive at the other side. They’re finally at the next stage of their journey. And more adventure awaits them.  In the Gospels, when they reach the other side, they’re met by a man possessed with an evil spirit. I’m sure they were thinking: “Crap! This is just what we need right now!”  But the situation gets handled easily, and they continue on.  And so will you.

Many of us are crossing over. We’re in transition, moving on with new things in our lives — new adventures, new purpose. Resistance will come. It’s part of the same old, well-worn strategy to stop us.  But half the battle is won if we’re not caught off guard by it, if we expect it.

“Among you stands one you do not recognize…”
- John 1:26

Sometimes we think too much. There’s a phrase I’ve heard a lot (often aimed at me) that describes how many of us handle particular situations: “paralysis by analysis.” We want something, we’ve been looking forward to something, we’ve sought God and pressed the Heavens with our prayers to get something, but we actually get in the way of receiving it because we’ve already decided what it looks like. We’ve planned out how it is supposed to happen. We’ve worked out all the details, and our expectations are focused like lasers on that particular answer.

And, sometimes that’s fine. There is a place for being specific in our prayers and in exercising our faith. But if we’re not careful, we can be blinded by our own expectations. We can become so set in our perspective of how things are supposed to work out, that we miss the answer right under our noses.

Are You the One?
In John’s Gospel, that’s the scenario we see when the Jewish leaders came to John the Baptist asking if he were “the one” (John 1:19). Was he the Messiah? Was he Elijah? Was he the Prophet foretold by Moses whom they were to obey? John gives them another answer. No, he’s the messenger preparing the way, he’s the voice calling in the wilderness. And the one they’re looking for, the one their hearts are desiring after, is already among them in the crowd. They just don’t recognize him.

We have the benefit of historical perspective now — “hindsight is 20/20.” But back then, God’s people weren’t sure what the Messiah was supposed to look like. Scripture was filled with images and phrases describing him, but from so many different angles that a clear understanding just wasn’t possible. Like trying to see clearly through a multifaceted crystal, no one knew exactly how to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. Was he a mighty warrior-king along the lines of King David? Was he a priestly leader who would purify the faith and restore proper Temple worship? Was he that Suffering-Servant who took upon himself the divine punishment of the people? Wasn’t he supposed to come from the heavens with angels in his wake, and restore Israel to its rightful place among the nations? In fact, at that point in history, many believed that there would be two, perhaps even three, different messiahs, different leaders who would accomplish those different tasks. With all these images, all these details, all these preconceived ideas of what the Messiah would do, it was understandably too easy to overlook that rough, calloused carpenter from Galilee.

Don’t we do exactly the same thing when we’re seeking something from God? Don’t we block ourselves from accepting the gift he’s offering us simply because we’ve clamped down the inner openness necessary to recognize it? We’re looking, our hearts are aching from desire for that miracle only God can supply, that thing we’ve been hounding him for day after day. And it could be that we’re stumbling right over it.

Ignorance is not necessarily an obstacle. Everyone starts there. Even John the Baptist didn’t know who the Coming One was until he saw the Spirit descend on Jesus. The difference between John and those religious leaders who questioned him was in their attitudes. They already “knew” what they wanted, what they were seeking, and exactly what it was supposed to look like. John, on the other hand, remained open to let God do things HIS way. John stayed receptive to the Spirit’s role in identifying the fulfillment of the promise: “THIS is the one.” Instead of being blinded by predefined expectations, he allowed God to reveal the answer. So he saw. They didn’t.

What Do You Want?
Later in the story, John’s disciples see Jesus and start following him around (Jn 1:37). Jesus turns around and asks them the question we all need to answer for ourselves: “What do you want?” Wanting is not a bad thing. Seeking after a heart’s desire is not a sign of selfishness. Since God loves to give us the desires of our heart, it helps if we have some idea of what we actually want. Telling God how to do it, though, is another matter. And these two men demonstrate the right attitude: “Rabbi, where are you staying?” They are respectful and show their willingness to stay close. Jesus’ response is the same he offers us today when we come to him with our urgent longings: “Come, and you will see.” It’s an open invitation to relationship. “Come, spend time with me, and you’ll find that thing you’ve been looking for.” Interestingly, Jesus doesn’t answer their question. Sometimes, the timing isn’t right, sometimes we’re not ready for the answer, and sometimes he wants us to readjust our priorities. But he doesn’t turn them down, he doesn’t reject them or turn them away. The answer is always found in relationship with him.

That’s our key today. We want things. We need things. Our hearts longs for satisfaction in some area. And we can either play the role of religious people, so blinded by our own expectations that we miss the answer right under our noses. Or we can follow the example of John and his disciples who waited for God’s Spirit to reveal the answer in his own time, in his own way.

When we’re eagerly searching for that heart’s desire, looking here and there, constantly questioning “are you the one, is this it?”, we need to relax a bit and let God do his thing. He asks us, “What do you want?” He WANTS to give it to us. But we’ll only see it if we stay in touch with him. “Come with me, and you’ll see.” Without that openness, without that receptivity to the Spirit’s pointing, we can miss the very thing we’re looking for, even if it’s right under our nose.

I just finished eating a late breakfast while watching episodes of West Wing on DVD, and as I started clearing up my plates, I looked down at my feet to see which dog was hanging around.  Usually, whenever they hear any kind of activity in the kitchen, they come running.  Some snack or little bits of left-overs, even just some pre-dishwasher plate-licking is always sure to be found. And if not found, then coerced with that longing look they’ve mastered so well that pulls on my heart-strings.  There are times when, after they’ve watched me eat for a while, they come to the realization that nothing is coming their way, and they wander off, going about their own doggie-business. But sometimes one of them will linger anyway, laying quietly, staring hopefully, expectantly, perhaps honing in with their doggie-intuition that “something good is going to happen”.  Today, oddly, not one of them was around.  They’d already abandoned hope and were busy watching birds or chasing squirrels in the backyard.  Too bad.  I was actually in the mood to sneak one of them a treat.  Ah well, “Good things come to those who wait …”

And that struck me.  How true, in a spiritual sense.  And images from various scattered bible passages flooded into mind. The unjust judge giving in to the widow’s requests for justice because of her simple nagging.  The neighbor who dragged himself out of bed in the middle of the night because of the persistent pounding on his door by his friend.  That whole, “ask, seek, knock” thing, teaching us to be persistent in our prayers to God.  If even these rascally fellows give in due to persistence, wouldn’t God who delights giving good things to his children give us our requests more gladly?

But too often we act like my dogs today.  They were there while I was eating, but they disappeared just when the “giving” was ready to be dished out. And I was actually disappointed that I was deprived of the opportunity to sneak a treat to one of them.  Their lack of patience today robbed them of their earlier expectations.  How many times do we so earnestly desire a thing — a new job, a raise, a spouse, some urgently needed answer — but we don’t hang around long enough to get it? If we’d just spent a little more time hanging around God, a little more time simply waiting, or like my dogs, laying quietly at my feet, paws crossed, but with eyes following my every movement in anticipation….  Who knows how many answers, how many treats, we’ve missed because we got bored or distracted, and went about our business, chasing our squirrels or watching our elusive birds. And all the while, God was on the verge of providing us the very thing we’re seeking — even WANTING to give us that tasty morsel.

Zack, Clarice and Rascal* all came wandering back in a little later, curious to see what they might have missed. But by then, the plates were already rinsed and in the dishwasher, the stove and counters were wiped down, and the kitchen lights were out.  “Sorry, babies, not this time.”

They were so eager a few minutes ago.  But because of their impatience, their lack of persistence, we all left the kitchen disappointed this time.

——-

* Dog names have been changed to protect the innocent.

President Obama once again proclaimed June 2010 as LGBT Pride Month. Most of us should be used to this by now — Gay Pride has been celebrated for the past 40 years, though it has become much more mainstream recently than in those early days. What I found interesting in the president’s proclamation was his call to action, not just a simple labeling of another month after another good cause.   “I call upon all Americans to observe this month by fighting prejudice and discrimination in their own lives and everywhere it exists.” (Presidential Proclamation)

Prejudice and discrimination in America? Still? Yeah, of course. As long as human nature remains the same, there will be an “Us vs. Them” mentality. We’ll always find people different than us somehow unacceptable — or at least we’ll be uncomfortable around them. We may have to tolerate them in our schools and workplaces (it’s the law, right?), but we sure don’t have to allow them in our country clubs, our churches, our synagogues or mosques. As a devout Christian, I’m more sensitive to this attitude in our religious establishments, our churches. Thankfully, we’ve (mostly) moved past segregation in the pew. Hardly anyone bats an eye at blacks and whites, Asians and Latinos sitting together in church these days. In fact, it’s become a badge of honor for us: “See? Look how far we’ve come. Look at the Love of God in this place.” Those old Scripture passages that once championed separation of the races are no longer interpreted that way. The wall that divides us has been torn down by the work of Christ — well, at least we’ve finally come to recognize that much of it, anyway.

But President Obama’s proclamation brings my mind once again to the division and pain still experienced by Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender people in our Houses of Worship. Fellow believers! Unwelcome in the House of their Father. And I think of those I’ve met personally with stories of attempted suicides, driven to this extreme by the rejection they encountered by so-called believers. Saints, loved by God, who themselves want to love God and experience the fullness of relationship with him, but told by their spiritual leaders that they are unacceptable, that God hates them, and that they’re destined for hell (“see, it’s right here in black and white: 1 Cor 6:9…”). Imagine it. No, really, try. Try to put yourself in that position: kept from God, your only lifeline of hope in a confused and dangerous world, by the gatekeepers of the Kingdom. No matter your own heart’s crying out into the heavens, seeking, hungering after an encounter with your Creator, your Redeemer, but not finding anyone who will show you the way. Finding only those who point fingers and demand the impossible of you: “change or perish”.

My heart still breaks at these stories — as did Jesus’ so long ago. We, the Church of the Living God, have become the very people accused by our Lord. We have put stumbling blocks in front of people, preventing access to the only Source that can bring life and healing and love and fulfillment and purpose. With our clinging to our own “righteous” forms of legalism, we are no different than those religious figures 2000 years ago — quoting Scripture to Jesus himself, defending offensive practices which break the heart of God. Where is the echoing call of the messiah in our lives? Where is the living out of the promise, “the Spirit of the Lord is upon me because he has anointed me … to proclaim freedom to the captive, to release the oppressed, and to declare the year of the Lord’s favor”?

We, the people of faith, will always wrestle with coming to peace with the sinner and his sin. In our lifetimes, we’ll probably never be able to fully come to terms with black and white Scripture which describes the behavior of sinners. Perhaps, then, we should focus more on the red and white of Scripture, the “come unto me ALL … and I will give your rest. Take MY yoke upon you…”. Let us not forget our own failures, our own shortcomings compared to the unyielding perfection of the Law. “Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD. Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as crimson, they shall be like wool” (Is 1:18). We, with our snow-white hearts, do we close the door to others simply because we cannot see how white their hearts are as well?

I hear the powerful, liberating words of the prophet Isaiah describing the finished work of the Suffering Servant: “we turned our back on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care. Yet it was our weaknesses he carried; it was our sorrows that weighed him down… He was pierced for our rebellion, crushed for our sins. He was beaten so we could be whole; he was whipped so we could be healed. … But it was the LORD’s good plan to crush him and cause him grief. When he sees all that is accomplished by his anguish, he will be satisfied. And because of his experience, my Righteous Servant will make it possible for many to be counted righteous, for he will bear all their sins” (Is 53:2-11).

It’s already done. That work was completely finished. The doorway to the Eternal Throne has been burst off its hinges to close no more. The curtain hiding the Holy of Holies has been ripped in two, never to be resewn. Who among us who call ourselves by his name dare to try to close that door, to repair that curtain?

My heart breaks for the Church, for the heartless actions of its leaders, its shepherds, and its people. What stern look of disapproval will we receive from the One who sits on the Throne on that Great Day? But my heart aches worse for those black sheep, lambs of a different fold, rejected by the white sheep with cold hearts, complacent, too comfortable and apathetic in their secure pens. Who will go out, leave the ninety and nine, in search of them? Who will go out into the roadways and countrysides — the clubs, the parades, the picnics, rodeos and festivities of Gay Pride month — and proclaim that Year of Jubilee to them? Who will speak the words Jesus is still speaking, “Come to me … just as you are”?

The president’s words are pale in comparison to the summons of Jesus. This month, this official time of LGBT Pride, let it also be a month of reawakening in the Church and in God’s People. Remove the stumbling blocks. Replace your hearts of stone for hearts of flesh, beating with the blood of love and acceptance of Him who Gives Life. Let June 2010 be proclaimed as the Month of the Lord’s Favor. Open the doors, open your arms. Welcome back those called by your Father that you have held at arm’s length — “not in THIS church”. Hold your tongue, withhold your judgment. Bring joy to the heart of God by loving his people, and bringing in those who have been kept out. When all are welcomed home, when reconciliation has been proclaimed, that’s when the angels sing. June is an official month for a good cause in America. Let it also be a month of celebration in Heaven.

While Jesus was having dinner at Levi’s house, many tax collectors and “sinners” were eating with him and his disciples, for there were many who followed him. (Mark 2:15)

Your church’s effectiveness and how close it aligns with God’s heart and priorities can be measured by the number of sinners you’re attracting.

Jesus drew people by love, by radical acceptance. Not by judgement, or by calls for repentence and holy living. Not even by preaching profound biblical truth. People were amazed at his words of grace. They were amazed at his teaching with authority — not like the teachers they were accustomed to. And the only way one can preach with authority, with God’s power, is by being in touch with God’s heart. And the loving, longing heart of God attracts people. All kinds of people. The worst kinds of people.

You’re wondering where the power is? You’re praying for explosive church growth like in the New Testament?

Well, how may “sinners” are in your services? How many are you attracting?

Something to think about …

The other day my mom emailed me about a recent experience she had, with some simple, but profound spiritual implications. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
——

Yesterday, I had a very interesting experience. Coming back from the doctor’s office, we heard a thump, thump, thump. We had just gotten new struts in the rear, and our first thought was, “Oh, no not again!” We recognized the noise from bad struts, but this noise was a bit different. It was continuous. Finally, after playing the guessing game as to what it was, we pulled over, only to discover we had a flat tire…not just flat but slashed, shredded! We drove a few feet down the road into an empty parking lot. The store it belonged to had been vacated. After calling Triple A, I realized I needed to use the restroom. A couple of doors down was a “Gentlemen’s Adult Party House!” Hey, any port in the storm, was my thinking. So off, Joe and I went!

It was a bright sunny day, but as soon as we opened the door to that particular “establishment” we were met with total darkness. I mean it was black in there! I could not see. From somewhere to my right a voice said, “Welcome!” Whoa! I couldn’t see anyone. Perhaps Joe could, all I know is that he explained to the man, who I could not see, what my need was. He was very kind, and told me to follow him. Follow him? I couldn’t even see him! All I could see was a square of light on the floor to my left, about the size of a wrestling mat! I did not follow the man, I followed his voice which led me to a door. Upon opening it, I discovered LIGHT. Yes, indeed, there was light in there. There was one wall covered with mirrors and some unmentionables lying on the shelf, but there were also some cubicles for my use!

As I sat there, I considered where I was and who would be using this room in the future. Who were these girls? What had brought them to this place? Did their mothers know what they did for a living? Had anyone ever told them about God? Was anyone praying for them? I didn’t have the answers to most of those questions, but I could answer the last one. Me! I would pray for them, and I did. I asked the Lord by His Spirit to speak to each heart that entered there. I asked Him to convict, convince and woo each girl that came in there. I asked Him to answer any prayers that had already been prayed for these girls, and to bring them Home to Himself.

When I came out, blackness assaulted me. But there was one ray of light. Some feet beyond me, there stood Joe in the light of the doorway. That’s the only way I would have seen him! I kept my eye on him and got out safely! But you know, it did cause me to think about the spiritual darkness many people are in. Just think what one ray of light will do for them! One ray of light might be the only light they’ve ever seen. One ray of light is all that is needed to bring them on Home. Can you, can I be that ray of light to those around us?

The darkness is very dark….I mean black as ink! The voice I heard could have been anyone’s. I never could have identified the owner in a line up! And these people in spiritual darkness are not any more certain of the voices they are hearing than I was. Who are they following? They haven’t a clue, for the most part. We HAVE to be their light. It doesn’t have to be showy…it just needs to be true. As I saw Joe standing in the light of the doorway, may they see Jesus standing in the little lights that we have!

Oh, later, when I was talking to my niece about the experience, I stated that I never thought to leave a tract in that room, although I had one in my purse. I said, “I didn’t leave anything. I was just glad to get out of there!” But you know what? I realized after I said that, that I was wrong. I DID leave something. I left my prayers there. I left an invitation for the Holy Spirit there! I did leave something indeed! And I feel in my heart that what I left there will reap its rewards in eternity. It wasn’t just a prayer, it was a Spirit led prayer. It was a prayer that I felt would be answered, and perhaps was on its way to an answer even as I prayed. Who knows, perhaps some grandmother had been praying for her granddaughter who worked there! Someday, I’ll know. But until then, it’s enough to know that I was where He led me and I was not alone, I was about my Father’s business.

Be a light today!

“I have much more to say to you, more than you can bear right now.”  (John 16:12)

Ever notice how you always save the most important things you want to say until the end? Like when you’re visiting family or friends after a long absence. You’re there for a few days; you hang out, go out to eat, maybe get on each others’ nerves a bit. But it’s only when you’re about to walk out the door to catch your plane that you finally say what’s really on your heart. They’re the words you’ve wanted to say, but somehow just couldn’t squeeze them in at any other time. And now that you’re about to leave, with no other time left, you try to cram in those most important thoughts.

During this Holy Week, I’ve been thinking on that famous Last Supper scene. Jesus had been eagerly waiting for this last great event with his closest friends. And just hours away from his torture and death, knowing that his mission on earth was coming to an end, he was nearly bursting at the seams with things he wanted to tell them, so much he wanted them to know. But he had so little time left, and he recaps months worth of teaching in a matter of hours. (Nearly the entire second half of John’s gospel is dedicated to these final things.)

And here’s what he wanted them to know. Here’s what he wants us — YOU — to know.

You are greatly loved. As a point of theological discussion, it’s almost absurd to mention this — it’s so simple. But what do people facing death usually want to say to those around them before they go? It’s all about the love. “I love you SO much.” More than anything else you can say, more than anything else you can do at that moment, you want your family and friends to know how much you love them, how important they are to you. They are your final thoughts. And Jesus was no different. “Having loved his own, he now showed them the full extent of his love …” (Jn 13:1). And he tells them over and over in those next few hours that he loves them, that the Father loves them, and how they can remain in his love. It’s that important to him.

Love each other. Just as much as he loved them, they were to love each other (Jn 13:34). That would be their signature characteristic; it would be the primary way people would recognize them as his followers and as children of God. Not just some mushy feeling in their guts, but as real acts of sacrifice for each other, showing how important they are to each other. Just like before dinner when Jesus knelt on the floor before each of them and washed their feet. Real, inconvenient, messy, dirty, time-consuming, and even humiliating actions for the benefit of the other. “You need this. This will be good for you. I want to do this for you. And I expect nothing in return.” He gave them that example to follow — an image that I’m sure stayed with them the rest of their lives: their beloved Lord and master, kneeling before each of them, with towel and bowl in his hands. Because each of us is important to him, and we should treat each other that way.

I’m not leaving you alone. Still a little confused by his behavior during the Supper, the disciples were probably more than a little disturbed by the things he was telling them. He was about to leave them. The words sent shivers of fear up their spines. What would they do now, without him? Had it all been a waste of time, a joke? Was it really going to end just like this? Knowing their fears, and wanting them to know what was about to happen, he reassures them. “Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust God; trust me. I’m not leaving you as orphans. I’m coming back for you so that we can be together always. But in the meantime, I’m sending you another Counselor to be with your forever, and he’ll teach you and guide you” (Jn 14:1-3, 16-18, 26-29). It’s not over. Jesus’ immanent arrest and execution would not be the end of the mission, and certainly not the end of their friendship. They were to carry on with the help of his divine companion, the Holy Spirit. And when they’d finished their part of the task, he’d come back for them. This point, too, he mentions several times during that evening. In the panic that was sure to ensue, he went to great lengths to make sure they wouldn’t forget this simple fact: they’d never be alone. And for most of us these days, those are some much needed words. In all the chaos and confusion of our own lives, it’s important to know that he has not left us alone. We have all the guidance we need, if we’ll just listen to the Counselor. And beyond that, he’ll even empower us to do what needs to be done. Our mission continues, and we haven’t been abandoned to do it alone.

Don’t be surprised by a little trouble. Anyone who’d hung around Jesus very long knew that trouble sometimes followed. He made all kinds of people mad — especially the religious types. And as his followers, they should expect the same. “Remember my words: No servant is greater than his master. If the world hates you, it hated me first. If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also.” (Jn 15:18-25). “I’m telling you this ahead of time so you won’t be surprised and stumble. They’ll kick you out of their synagogues and churches, thinking they’re serving God… In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (Jn 16:1-3,33). Believers shouldn’t expect of life full of ease and blessing, free from stress and problems, free from trouble-makers, gossips, busy-bodies, and people simply out to get them. Even in the church — or maybe, especially from people in the church. You’re gonna ruffle a few feathers, you’re going to annoy and irritate people, you’re gonna make them uncomfortable. And they won’t take it kindly. They’ll get nasty. They’ll kick you out, and even throw stones. They might even try to kill you. Don’t let this catch you off guard, don’t be surprised. And don’t let it shake your faith or cause you to go astray. Expect it. It happened to Jesus, and he wanted his followers to be prepared for it as well. No surprises.

The good news: I’m leaving you my Peace and Joy. He was going away, and they’d be scattered like sheep without a shepherd for a little while, they’d be confused and frightened. But, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you … Don’t let your hearts be troubled, and do not be afraid” (Jn 14:27). You won’t be in this messed up state very long. The Counselor will take up residence with you, he’ll be with you constantly through it all, and when you calm down a bit, you’ll be able to rest peacefully. And not only that, by keeping the command to love each other, you’ll stay in my love, my joy will fill you — your joy will be complete (Jn 15: 9-10). Even though Jesus wouldn’t be there physically with them any longer, because the Spirit would come in his place, that sense of security and joy they’d become accustomed to in his presence would continue. They could trust in that; they could relax — despite all the trouble. Nothing in their relationship would change. And when we’re going through some dark valleys ourselves, we can have that same confidence, that same peace, and that same joy. The pleasure of his continued company is guaranteed to us.

He was rushed. He was full of nervous energy, knowing what was just hours ahead. And he had so much he wanted to tell them, so much he wanted to reassure them. His last thoughts, those most important priorities, were focused on them. And after dinner, when he and his friends went out to the Garden — he, to wait for his arrest, and they, thinking it was an after-dinner walk to get some fresh air — Jesus’ final prayer was filled with them. “I pray for them… I will remain in the world no longer, but they are still in the world. Holy Father, protect them so that they may be one as we are one. My prayer is not that you take them out of the world but that you protect them from the evil one. As you sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world” (Jn 17: 9-18).

The mission was being turned over to those first disciples — and to us who follow. And just as we go through some of the same hardships they went through, his final words are for us as well. They’re our lifeline in troubled times, those moments when we feel the world crashing in around us, when we feel crushed and alone. Of all the theology we could study, of all the Scripture we could read, and of all the liturgy we could recite and experience in these Holy Days, these are the words he wanted us to hear. These are his last, most important thoughts for us –

You are loved. Love each other. You’re never alone, and I’m coming back for you. Don’t be surprised by the trouble going on around you. And take heart, I’m leaving you my Comforter, my peace, and my joy.

I’m angry. And I’m angry because I’m frustrated. As I write this, certain friends, members of my family, and people I know from church are in desperate need of medical care and they can’t get it. They can’t afford it themselves, and they have no insurance. They can’t afford insurance, and their employers (for the ones who have jobs) keep them in perpetual part-time or temporary status because the companies can’t afford to provide it. So these people are stuck in wait-mode. For months and years at a time. Sometimes in severe discomfort and pain, sometimes left in states of semi-disability, sometimes in life-threatening conditions, and the rest of the time left in just lingering fear that they might get sick or be in an accident.

Also as I write this, Washington DC is in the middle of a so-called Health Care Summit between the White House and leaders of Congress, and frankly, I think it’s little more than theater. The government seems to be hopelessly grid-locked in ineffectiveness. Whether you’re a Republican or a Democrat or remain unaffiliated, as Christians what should our goal be? What should we do for those suffering among us? And what would our Lord do?

It’s hardly even necessary to ask “What would Jesus do?”. We all know it well enough. Jesus never preached about balanced budgets, or even lower taxes. He never mentioned market-based capitalism or the right to make a fair profit. What he did say was “I was hungry, and you did — or did not — feed me. I was sick, and you visited me — or not” — along with the appropriate blessing or curse: “Come, you blessed of my Father, and inherit the Kingdom prepared for you,” or “Depart from me, you cursed people, into everlasting fire” (Mat 25:31-46). That’s some scary stuff.

I’ve heard conservative religious people say that it is not the government’s responsibility to care for the sick, the poor and the elderly among us. They say that’s the Church’s job. Sure. But so far I’ve seen too little church involvement in dealing with this in real life — aside, perhaps, from preaching about how congregants should vote in the next election. Maybe as individuals we should pool our money, our tithes and offerings, to care for those who need help in our communities. Maybe in our churches we should create benevolence funds to help pay for prescriptions and food for those who worship with us. Too often we look the other way even when it involves people who may sit in the pew next to us, let alone people in our community who don’t go to our church. We — each of us, all of us — need to do something.

But even if we do pool our excess resources, most of us are living paycheck to paycheck ourselves. We can barely afford our own bills (well, aside from our Blackberry or iPhone plans and our morning Starbuck’s fix). Large scale help just ain’t happening that way. And since most of us pay taxes, it DOES then fall to the government to “promote the general welfare” (as our Constitution states). We get a voice and a vote, if even a small one, in how our money is spent. Sorry, but in my opinion, this is one area where the interests of the church and state SHOULD mix.

I’m an American. I’m even a capitalist. I believe in the “American dream” and in every one’s opportunity (and responsibility) to live it. But I am first and foremost a Christian. I give my time and my money where I can. But I can’t personally afford to pay for my friend’s needed MRI scan. I cannot foot the bill for that chemo treatment, or that back surgery. And my local church’s budget would be spent in a day to cover a neighbor’s hospital stay. But it seems no matter how little money I may have, my government has no problem taking its pound of flesh from me. I can’t escape the automatic tax deductions from my paycheck. So that gives me the right to demand that my government use my money in a way consistent with my values. My voice and my protest may gain little; my elected officials may ignore my wishes (and they often do). But if nothing else, I can insist that my representatives do SOMETHING to help those crying for help.

This means YOU, Congresswoman Mary Fallon. This means YOU, Senator Tom Coburn and Senator Jim Inhoffe. You all claim to be Christian — especially as you call for school prayer, banning gay marriage, and protecting my right to own a gun. Stand up now for your faith, and put our treasury to work for the desperate needs in our community. Do something good in the name of your faith, now if never again. Break the grid-lock, stop the stalling and stone-walling. Instead, break the chains of oppression, proclaim deliverance to the captives, and set at liberty them that are bruised.

I’m not a fire-and-brimstone kind of prophet, but the cries of hurting people reach the Throne of God. And you and I — as individuals, as the Church, and as Americans — will be judged for what we do next.

Weird situation at church yesterday. A group of us were sitting around talking, waiting for our weekly men’s group to begin, and there was this plastic bucket sitting on the table in front of me, filled with condoms. All kinds of condoms. Colored, textured, lubricated, plain. Not your father’s typical church supplies. As part of our outreach (to use a little Christianese), we’ve opened our building as a site for free HIV testing twice a week, and despite the adamant message of the abstinence-only crowd, a condom is the best defense against HIV. But in MY church?! ¹

Yeah, I get bent out of shape easily sometimes. And I threw one of my “you can’t be serious” looks at the pastor. But he was dead serious. And since I knew I was on a journey of “radical acceptance” and opening myself up to allow God to use his Church in ways he wants (even if it raises some eyebrows), I was eager for the theological justification. Too bad I didn’t get it. The pastor’s position was simple. While as believers, we maintain a Biblical standard for purity in intimate relations — marriage and fidelity — we still need to love people enough to help them stay safe even if they don’t live up to our standards. Nutshell theology. Good for the soul, but not really satisfying to my analytical mind. So as I picked through the bucket, marveling at the assortment of glow-in-the-dark colors, I started wrestling with the arguments and implications. Another mind-stretching experience.

Would Jesus be handing out condoms at the Oklahoma Gay Rodeo Association? According to my pastor, of course he would. But I could already hear the protests of my conservative evangelical friends and colleagues, rolling in disgust in their pews. Isn’t this tantamount to condoning sin? I don’t know. But what does Jesus think?

Did Jesus ever overlook a moral shortcoming in order to save a life? Images of scenes from ancient Middle East started flooding my mind. Isn’t this the same argument about working on the Sabbath? Isn’t it better to allow people to rub grains of wheat in their hands in order to satisfy their hunger, even though Sabbath laws forbid it? Or, could pulling your ox out of a pit in sheer mercy and compassion justify overriding the Sabbath restriction against it? And David, before he became king, entering the tabernacle and stealing the holy bread there to feed his hungry men — doing what was unlawful. Jesus justified him, applauded him. Here was a man who understood the heart (and priorities) of God. (Lk 6:1-5; Lk 14:5)

Didn’t a tablecloth containing all kinds of forbidden meat lower from heaven to Peter in a vision, with a command to eat and call nothing unclean that God has made clean?  Because it’s about people, not rules.  (Acts 10:10-15)

That scene of the Samaritan woman at the well also presses itself into my mind. She’d been married five times, and was currently living with a man not her husband. Yet because Jesus spends time talking with her (a scandalous action back then), God’s salvation was brought to her entire village (John 4). And he never once rebuffed her for her disreputable lifestyle. That other woman caught in adultery and about to be stoned by the righteous people of the day … Jesus steps in and saves her life. In this case, he does correct her: “go and sin no more.” But he doesn’t look at her offense. He focuses on saving her life. The correction comes later, when she was in a more receptive position (John 8:3-12).

And that famous parable of the Good Samaritan who takes care of the man, beaten, robbed and left on the side of the road to die by the holy people of his day. Are we, the Church, not the Priest and the Levite who walked by, not wanting to dirty ourselves even to save a life? We’d rather preach to him, tell him God loves him, all the while pointing out his faults in an effort to change him. But we won’t kneel down in the dirt with him to offer him the help he actually needs at that moment. Who ultimately was the good neighbor? Jesus’ words: the one who showed mercy. “Go and do likewise” (Lk 10:30-37).

Condoms, oddly enough, are never mentioned in the Bible. I can’t find any single passage in Scripture that specifically states that doing something which might appear to condone sin is acceptable if done out of love. But there are plenty of examples where Jesus himself does this. Love overrides Law. It is the “Ox on the Sabbath” principle.

Am I completely comfortable with this? Not yet. It may be a little while longer before you see me at the Rodeo passing out condoms, telling people Jesus loves them. It’s still a little too far from my traditional, conservative upbringing to adjust so quickly. But I am completely convinced that this is the kind of attitude and thinking we need to embrace if we’re going to be a light in the 21st century. It’s what Jesus would do. The world seems to be falling apart, people are dying. They need God, and we the Church have failed to deliver. This is the kind of out-of-the-box action that demonstrates who we really are. This is the message people need to hear. God loves you. We love you. Our greatest desire is for you to have an intimate relationship with God. In the meantime, be safe. Here’s a condom.

———————-
¹ Just to clarify, the condoms were not in the sanctuary and are put away during services. They were in the fellowship area of the church where the HIV testing was going on, and HIV testing sites are required by law to have condoms available.