Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Hello, past... Goodbye, past...

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Image from @Sign_Craft
We talk about the kingdom of God as having come (Jesus declared as much), as being present, and as still to come. In the first chapter of Revelation, the Almighty One describes himself as "who is, who was, and who is to come." So closely is the kingdom of heaven related to the king of glory that when you see one, you see the other. Both king and kingdom encompass the realms of past, present, and future. If our theology emphasizes one of these aspects to the neglect of the others, we end up with some pretty lopsided doctrines such as cessationism, over-realized eschatology, or gospel escapism. I won't take time to unpack any of these (perhaps in a future blog) because my point here is that our personal spirituality, like our theology, can get a bit off-kilter if we do not invite God and God's kingdom into our past, our present, and our future.

In the context of living in the kingdom, our past refers to that which we cannot change. It is our story, how we got where we are, and what makes us the person we are today. Our present has to do with what we spend our time and resources on, what we intentionally or accidentally practice as a rule of life, our vocation. Our future deals with those things we invest in, the seeds we plant (hoping they will grow into something big and beautiful), the legacy we want to leave for generations to come.

We can see the kingdom of God touching all three realms when we take a look at the story of Zacchaeus found in Luke 19. Zacchaeus was born a Jew, a descendant of Abraham. He was also born into a time when they were under Roman rule and there were limited options for someone of Jewish descent to make a good living. Zacchaeus found a job collecting taxes for the Romans, work which alienated him from his fellow Jews. He did very well as a tax collector, adopting corrupt practices in order to become a rich man. When Zacchaeus heard about Jesus, he was curious about him. Perhaps Zacchaeus was discontent with the way his life had turned out, perhaps he desired something more. It certainly seems that Zacchaeus was ready for a change, for after his encounter with Jesus, he embarked on a new course. He pledged to give half of his money to the poor and to make things right with those he had cheated. Jesus spoke these words to those gathered in the tax collector's house: "Today salvation has come to this house, because he too is a son of Abraham." Jesus declared Zacchaeus's redemption by affirming his heritage. No longer was he to be labeled a traitor, but acknowledged as a true son of Abraham. Zacchaeus's past (Jewish heritage) was reanimated, his present (vocation) was reworked, and his future (what he invested in the community) was altered. This is what happens when one comes in contact with the kingdom of God.

On a recent walk through downtown Montreal, I noticed two large banners displayed on the side of a building. One read "Canada 150" and the other said, "Building on our past for tomorrow." The juxtaposition struck me as a bit odd. Celebrating Canada's heritage (150 years since confederation) is a bit complicated because our nation's history includes oppression of the First Nations people and mistreatment of those who were not European settlers. Given that ignoble background, it seems a bit naive to talk about building on the past for (a hopefully bright) tomorrow. We need to honestly address the past (as Zacchaeus did) in order to have any hope of building a better future. Otherwise, we will find ourselves repeating harmful and destructive patterns.

When we invite God into our personal past, we seek to do two things: 1) embrace his providence in birthing us into a particular family and a particular time and place in history and 2)  break free from those unhealthy ways of thinking and acting which were handed down to us. Our origins grant us certain opportunities and gifts, but they also carry with them some unhelpful and harmful baggage. Living in the kingdom of God means that we recognize and give thanks for the blessings and gifts bestowed on us from our past. It also means that we need to repair any faulty familial foundations and jettison any baggage which keeps us from fully and freely loving God and others (forgive the mixed metaphor).

If we look at the life of Joseph, the great grandson of Abraham, we can see both of these dynamics in action. Joseph was born into a generational covenant with God; his was a wealthy family poised to become a great nation. However, the family tree also featured generations of strained relationships, jealousy, deceit, and unhealthy competition. [1] By the time Joseph came along, the family conflicts were so out of control that his own brothers conspired to kill him. Thankfully, one of the brothers appealed to mercy, and Joseph was sold into slavery instead. When he arrived in Egypt, Joseph endured many years of trials and temptations, developing into a faithful and patient man (reminiscent of his great grandfather, Abraham). He eventually rose to become a high-ranking official in Egypt and successfully navigated the people through a period of famine (the descendants of Abraham were to be a blessing to other nations). When Joseph was reunited with his brothers many years later, he chose to offer forgiveness and act generously instead of perpetuating conflict and competition (he chose a different way forward). Joseph embraced the blessings of his heritage, but he also refused to propagate the jealousy and deceit which were part of the family dynamics.

One of the chapters in Peter Scazzero's book, Emotionally Healthy Spirituality, is entitled "Going Back in Order to Go Forward." In it, he lists what he calls "The Ten Commandments of Your Family." These are ten areas in which we learn attitudes and behaviours from our family context. Because we were exposed to them from an early age, these patterns of thinking and acting become imprinted on us. Some might be good and loving ways of acting in the world, but others are probably not so healthy. In order to participate fully in the kingdom of God as followers of Jesus, we must invite the Spirit of God into our past so that inadequate and harmful ways of thinking and acting can be transformed. If we fail to invite God into our past, we end up building our lives on a false foundation. We also limit our ability to bring healing and wholeness to the world when we ourselves are not being healed and made whole.

Below are the ten areas along with some examples of blessings and baggage in each. I suggest that you take some time to prayerfully invite the Spirit to highlight where there are blessings to celebrate and where there is some baggage to jettison. Let us be people who graciously pass on the blessings we have received from our past and, by the grace and work of the Spirit, willingly discard any destructive patterns we have inherited.

1. Money: What was modeled for you? Good stewardship, generosity, resourcefulness, gratitude, simplicity? Love of money, stinginess, sense of poverty, hoarding, frivolous spending?
2. Conflict: How did your family address conflict? Loving and honest dialogue? With directness and patience? Were family members passive aggressive, volatile, or silent? Was conflict constant and expected?
3. Sex: Was sex spoken about openly, were healthy attitudes and boundaries encouraged around intimacy? Were there different standards for men and women, instances of promiscuity? Was sex a taboo subject?
4. Grief and Loss: Did your family process grief well, giving space for sadness and letting go? Was grief internalized and stuffed down? Were stoicism and practicality seen as strengths and sadness and depression seen as weaknesses?
5. Expressing Anger: Was anger given a safe outlet? Was it seen an as appropriate response to injustice? Was it avoided at all cost? Was it explosive and dangerous? Was sarcasm an acceptable way to release anger?
6. Family: Was your family close or estranged? Was loyalty expected no matter what? Were there dynamics of competition, jealousy? Was your family a source of support? Were you expected to pay a debt to your parents for all they did for you? What did/does your family expect from you?
7. Relationships: Were trust and vulnerability modeled for you? Was betrayal present in your family? What type of friendships were modeled for you? Did you learn how to be there for others? How to ask for help?
8. Attitudes Towards Different Cultures: Did your family embrace outsiders? Were they willing to learn from those who were different? Was your family wary of outsiders? Did they have an attitude of superiority? Was marriage between races and cultures looked down on?
9. Success: How was success defined in your family? Were there high expectations, perfectionism? Was there an attitude of defeatism?
10. Feelings and Emotions: Was your family okay with the full spectrum of emotions? Were some emotions not allowed? Were feelings not valued? Was reactionary behaviour common? Did emotions cause conflicts and breaks in relationships?

The Lord and the Spirit are one and the same, and the Lord’s Spirit sets us free. So our faces are not covered. They show the bright glory of the Lord, as the Lord’s Spirit makes us more and more like our glorious Lord.
(2 Corinthians 3:17-18, Contemporary English Version)

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[1] I am expanding on ideas found in Peter Scazzero, Emotionally Healthy Spirituality (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2006).



Thursday, July 20, 2017

the in and out of giving thanks

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My office earlier this week
The giving of thanks before a meal is a common Christian tradition. It is a way of acknowledging that God is the Provider. Though the farmer may till the ground and plant the seeds, he cannot make anything grow. A baker can mix the yeast in the bread, but she cannot make it rise. We can be prone to believe that we are masters of our own destiny, but this is a delusion. The giving of thanks to the Creator and Sustainer of our lives (especially before partaking of a meal) is one way to remind ourselves that, in the grand scheme of things, we are humble recipients of grace. We rely on the earth, the crops, the trees, the birds, the bees, the animals, the rain, the sun, the wind, and much, much more in order to be able to enjoy nourishment every day. Even Jesus, Creator incarnate, gave thanks before he broke bread and enjoyed a meal with others.

There is another practice which I have adopted in my life, and that is saying a heartfelt "Thank you, God" every time I go to the bathroom. For any of you who have had digestive issues, you know that bodily elimination is not something to take for granted. A good appetite and regular trips to the bathroom to expel toxins and roughage are two of the main indicators of good health. In the Jewish tradition, we find a prayer called the Asher Yatzar which one prays after going to the bathroom. "Blessed are You, God, our God, sovereign of the universe, who formed humans with wisdom and created within him many openings and many hollows. It is obvious in the presence of your glorious throne that if one of them were ruptured, or if one of them were blocked, it would be impossible to exist and stand in your presence. Blessed are You, God, who heals all flesh and performs wonders." [1]

Just as the act of breathing is two-fold (we inhale oxygen and we exhale carbon dioxide), the nourishment of the body includes both ingesting food and eliminating elements which are not helpful to the body. Giving thanks for a meal which smells delicious is easy. Giving thanks for waste which gives off a foul odour is less intuitive. We like to ingest, to imbibe, to gorge ourselves, to partake of the good things in life, but how often are we mindful that we must daily excrete, expel, evacuate, and eliminate if we want to remain in good health? Accumulation in the intestines is a sign that something has gone wrong physically. Accumulation in life (such as hoarding) is a sign that something has gone wrong on an emotional, social, mental, or spiritual level.

I am in the process of purging my office after 7 years of graduate school. Needless to say, I collected quite a lot of books, papers, files, and office supplies during that time. I started the week off with some excitement, re-imagining a streamlined and tidy work-space, but after three days of upheaval, tripping over piles of papers and books with seemingly no end in sight, I became somewhat disheartened. I temporarily abandoned the project and read a fiction book, which was probably for the best. Today, I am happy to report that there is only one more drawer to sort through. I realize now that had I done a small purge and reorganization every summer, things would have been much easier, but due to a heavy workload and limited energy, I fell into the habit of accumulating and neglecting instead of eliminating.

We can do the same thing in our emotional, social, and spiritual lives. We tend to spend most of our time focusing on good, positive input and hardly any time on letting unhelpful things go. We are heavy on taking in information and light on confession, repentance, weeping, grieving, righteous anger, loving confrontation, and forgiveness. In our society, it is more acceptable for a person to be an overstuffed consumer (I am rich and wealthy and need nothing) than for someone to have an honest breakdown, leaking out anxiety, anger, and doubt. But in order for us to exist with at least a modicum of health and have any hope of maturity and sustainability, we must orient our lives around the rhythm of ingesting, digesting, and eliminating.  

Going through my papers and books and notes and files has meant making many hundreds of decisions about what will be useful for me moving forward, what can be put in storage, what can be recycled, and what needs to be tossed in the garbage (our bodies do this with every morsel of nourishment we put into our mouths - what a wonder!). It is difficult but necessary work. It requires discipline, discernment, consistency, and a lot of letting go. This week especially, trips to the bathroom have become a spiritual discipline of sorts, helping to reinforce necessary rhythms of elimination in my life.

"Yes, all the things I once thought were so important are gone from my life. Compared to the high privilege of knowing Christ Jesus as my Master, firsthand, everything I once thought I had going for me is insignificant—dog dung. I’ve dumped it all in the trash so that I could embrace Christ and be embraced by him. I didn’t want some petty, inferior brand of righteousness that comes from keeping a list of rules when I could get the robust kind that comes from trusting Christ—God’s righteousness. I gave up all that inferior stuff so I could know Christ personally, experience his resurrection power, be a partner in his suffering, and go all the way with him to death itself." (Philippians 3:8-10, The Message)

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[1] http://www.jewishpathways.com/files/asher-yatzar.pdf

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

encounters with Jesus

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Image from newtestamentperspectives.blogspot.ca

At the heart of the Christian faith is encounter with Jesus. This is what we hope for in our communal gatherings, in our personal times of devotion, and in our day to day lives. But what exactly does an encounter with Jesus look like? Well, it looks different for different people. Let's take a look at two of these encounters found in the gospel of John. The first story involves Nicodemus, a learned and respected religious scholar in the Jewish community (John 3:1-21). The second story concerns a Samaritan woman who has three strikes against her: being a woman in a patriarchal society, being a Samaritan of mixed blood and religious heritage, and having a history of numerous failed relationships (John 4:5-29). The first story features a religious insider, the second a social outcast. In the first story, Nicodemus is the one who seeks Jesus out. In the second, Jesus initiates the encounter. Nicodemus comes at night, not wanting to risk exposure or ridicule. Jesus approaches the woman in broad daylight in a public place.

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Image from pastorlee.org

Despite the many differences between the two stories and the two people, there is at least one thing they share: encountering the Son of Man profoundly changes their lives. I encourage you to read both stories and make your own observations about how Jesus interacts with each person according to their context. Here are some of my thoughts on the two accounts, framed in the form of a few questions.

1. What did they want?
Nicodemus wanted to know God. He had devoted his entire life to the pursuit of God, and he recognized something familiar in Jesus. He wanted to know not only how Jesus was connected to God, but if Jesus could show him how to have a deeper connection to YHWH.
The Samaritan woman wanted to be loved and accepted. That a Jewish man would approach her in broad daylight and ask her for a drink of water was extraordinary. Jews did not associate with the impure Samaritans and men did not speak freely with women in public. For Jesus to treat her like a human being instead of a dirty dog was shocking. He asked her for a drink of water, never showing disdain for her heritage or fear of contamination. When he revealed her history of failed marriages, he was not merely uncovering her shame, but acknowledging the pain of rejection she had suffered. In that time and culture, a woman had no means of income or support without a husband. She also had no power to end a marriage; only the man could do that. Basically, she had been rejected and left destitute five times, and Jesus's words let her know that he saw what she had been through.

2. What did Jesus offer?
To Nicodemus, Jesus offered a new way of looking at relationship with God. Being born again made no sense to Nicodemus (at first), but Jesus invited him to change his thinking about how one encounters God.
To the Samaritan woman, Jesus offered acceptance and respect (by taking her seriously), but he also invited her to ask for something greater. She was concerned with everyday needs and concerns, but Jesus asked her to consider the deepest desires of her heart. He saw her, and in turn, invited her to see him for who he was: the Messiah.

3. What did Jesus call them to?
Jesus called Nicodemus to be transformed by the spirit, to be born again, to enter into a living relationship with God through the Spirit of Jesus.
Jesus called the Samaritan woman to look beyond the externals and embrace the spirit and truth of the Anointed One: himself. This meant she no longer had to be concerned with the rules and regulations of religion (those things which divided the Jews from the Samaritans), nor did she have to seek acceptance from men or from society (so much failure and pain for her in both arenas). Jesus offered her direct access to the lover of her soul when he said, "I am the One you have been looking for" (John 4:26).

4. What did they do?
Nicodemus's transformation was not instant, but from what we read of him later, it seems that he did embrace the new birth Jesus spoke about. When his fellow religious leaders wanted to arrest Jesus, Nicodemus spoke up, reminding them that the law requires that a person cannot be condemned before they have been given a chance to speak (John 7:50-51). After Jesus was crucified, Nicodemus provided costly burial spices and assisted in the burial rites, showing his love and devotion for the one his colleagues condemned as a despised rebel (John 19:39-42).
The transformation of the woman at the well was more immediate. She was so impacted by her encounter with Jesus that she left her water pot and went to tell people about this man who knew her deepest desires. Due to the excitement and insistence of the Samaritan woman, people came to see and hear Jesus, and at the invitation of the villagers, he stayed there two more days. The village of Sychar was transformed.

Sometimes we assume that an encounter with Jesus happens in a certain way. When we look at multiple stories of Jesus interacting with people, we see that he reveals himself (and the heart of the person) in diverse ways. When we encounter Jesus, we should not expect these encounters to always look the same, even in our prayers or every day devotions. Knowing God is not a system, but a living relationship. So, what can we learn from reading these two encounters together? Here are a few ideas. Feel free to add your own.
1. Seek Jesus out. He promises that those who seek will find.
2. Let Jesus interrupt your day. Listen. Engage. Drop your water pot when necessary.
3. Ask questions. Jesus loves questions.
4. Seek something greater. Look beyond your immediate concerns and needs.
5. Be willing to adjust your thinking/feeling/doing.
6. Talk to your neighbours/co-workers. Treat them with respect and dignity.
7. Make friends with outcasts. See above.
8. Embrace both the fast and slow elements of transformation.

Saturday, July 01, 2017

notes from the Society of Vineyard Scholars Conference

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Image from divinity.yale.edu
This Spring I attended three academic conferences, so much of my time in the past few months has been spent writing papers, traveling, giving presentations, and taking in lots of talks about religion and theology. My favourite one each year is put on by the Society of Vineyard Scholars which was held at Yale Divinity School last week. I wrote a few thoughts about this year's gathering over at the Thoughtworks blog. Check it out here if you are interested.

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

a complex flavour profile

Winning ... Billie’s botrytis cinerea dessert, which won her the competition. Picture: Channel 10.
Image from www.news.com.au
Botrytis cinerea dessert, Australian Masterchef 2015 winning dish
I am not much of a foodie. Most days, a protein shake and a few handfuls of popcorn constitute lunch. And I like it that way. However, my husband, Dean, loves to experience food from around the world and is always looking for exciting combinations of flavours and textures. A gourmet meal features depth and complexity in its flavour profile. There may be bitter, sweet, sour, spice, and saltiness all present in one bite. Rich cream, fresh mint, hot cayenne, spongy light cake, and crunchy chocolate brittle all stimulate different sensations. A fine meal is one which causes not only your taste buds, but your olfactory system, your eyes, your ears, and even your sense of touch, to be awakened.

I often think of Jesus's invitation/command to Peter to "feed my sheep" (John 21). This is not only a pastoral metaphor with multiple meanings (Jesus as a shepherd, people as sheep who need care and nourishment, one shepherd training another shepherd, etc.) but it is also a food metaphor. Eating is something that all living creatures spend a significant amount of time doing. Like the other appetites, eating combines necessity with pleasure, ensuring that those things which give us life in a physical sense also give us life in other ways.

Whenever I preach, teach, or write, my prayer is that I might provide something both tasty and nourishing for those who receive my words. The reason I pray this is not only because of Jesus's directive to Peter, but because preparing a feast is what God does. During the wilderness wanderings of the newly-freed Israelites, God provided sweet, flaky manna every morning. The seven feasts established in Leviticus describe the covenant between God and humanity through a complex Middle Eastern menu. In Psalm 23, we see a shepherd who leads sheep to an oasis, providing respite and refreshment along with food and drink. Later in the poem we find a contrasting setting: a feast prepared in the midst of enemies. Both quiet meadow and hostile environments become settings for enjoying nourishment.

In the gospels, we find Jesus miraculously feeding hungry people with simple peasant fare (fish and bread) and providing fine wine to those already satiated at a wedding feast (John 6 and John 2). But the meal that subsumes and supersedes all of these is the one where Jesus indicates that he himself is on the menu. Quite early in his ministry, Jesus said: "I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh" (John 6:51). At a Passover meal with his disciples, he was even more explicit, asking them to eat his body and drink his "blood of the covenant" in the form of unleavened bread and wine (Matt 26).

Unleavened bread is made with flour, salt, olive oil, and water. It is poor person's bread, and in the Passover feast, it is known both as the bread of affliction and the bread of freedom. During a Passover seder, there are four cups of wine drunk during the celebration, each remembering one of the promises of YHWH found in Exodus 6:6-7: 1) I will take you out, 2) I will save you, 3) I will redeem you, and 4) I will take you as a nation. The Eucharistic meal, which echoes the Passover feast, features the simple elements of bread and wine. However, as already noted, it reveals a surprisingly complex flavour profile. The feast of Jesus encompasses the sweet (fullness of joy) and the bitter (share in his sufferings). It combines finely aged ingredients with fresh ones (old and new covenants joined together). It presents a shocking, acidic tang (love your enemies) while at the same time stewing everything in a soothing, warm broth ("I am with you always [remaining with you perpetually - regardless of circumstance, and on every occasion], even to the end of the age" Matt. 28:20, The Amplified Bible).

The feast of Jesus is a gourmet meal prepared by a master chef.[1] It is a complex combination of flavours which stimulate and awaken all the senses of mind, body, and spirit.  The best chefs are able to take all their experience, all their knowledge and skill, all their love of good food, nutrition, and beauty, and put it on a plate for others to enjoy. Jesus, our chef, does more than that. He puts himself on a plate. He is the food for our hungry souls. Let us pull up a seat at his generous table and dig in.

"O taste and see that the Lord is good." (Psalm 34:8)

[1] Chef: a French word meaning chief, head, leader, or master.



Monday, June 05, 2017

what about justice?

Image result for justice
Image from ec.europa.eu
There seems to be an increasing emphasis on addressing injustice, at least in the circles I move in. Everywhere I turn, it seems that someone is talking about how we can become more just people. On a recent trip to Toronto for a conference, I was reading Bryan Stevenson's Just Mercy which tells about his work as a lawyer in Alabama, addressing systemic injustices in the legal system. When I arrived in the city, I visited a downtown church which had posters and banners addressing issues of social justice all around their sanctuary. At the conference, some of the presentations identified specific people groups who have been victims of injustice and suggested ways we can move forward to more equitable interactions.

What is justice? The symbol for justice in the legal system is a blindfolded woman (known as Lady Justice) holding a set of scales. The symbolism suggests an impartial, careful, and accurate weighing of matters. The dictionary tells us that justice is fairness, equity, impartiality, neutrality, honesty, and righteousness. In the Hebrew bible, the word tzedek (to be just or righteous) is rooted in the nature of God, joining the idea of impartiality with promoting the good and dealing with sin. In Greek, we have the word dikaiosune which basically means approved by God. When we link justice to the nature of a loving, merciful God, we get a slightly different view of justice than when we equate it with moral rectitude. I offer two stories to illustrate this, one from the Hebrew Bible and one from the New Testament.

In Deuteronomy, we find specific laws given to the nation of Israel which were to guide their behaviour and ultimately, reflect their worship of a just God. One of these had to do with ensuring that a widow was not left destitute when her husband died and she had no sons. Since the women in the Ancient Near East had their value and their livelihood tied to men, when a woman's husband died and she had no sons to receive the family inheritance, her situation was precarious. The law made provision for this.

"When two brothers are living together, sharing family property that hasn’t been divided, if one of them dies leaving a widow without sons, his widow must not be married to a man outside the family. The brother should marry his sister-in-law and try to have children with her in his brother’s name. Her firstborn son will be named after the brother who died, so that the first husband’s name will not disappear from Israel and that son will receive his share of the family inheritance" (Deut. 25:5-6, The Voice).

Basically, the brother-in-law of the widow was to ensure that the deceased brother's name and inheritance were not lost. In effect, a man who married his brother's widow was sacrificing part of his inheritance in order to honour his dead brother and protect his widow. Understandably, some men were not too keen on fulfilling this obligation.

Case in point. In Genesis 38, we find the story of Judah and Tamar. Judah had three sons and the first one married Tamar. He died, and since Tamar had no sons and no means of income, she depended on the family she married into to take care of her. Judah told his second son that he must marry Tamar and any sons she bore would have his dead brother's inheritance. Well, he resented the imposition and the implications it had for his prospective wealth, so he begrudgingly took Tamar as his wife and had sex with her, but took precautions to make sure she would not become pregnant. That second son died as well. Now, Judah had a third son who was not yet of marrying age and, understandably, Judah was reluctant to have Tamar wed him. The two men who had been her husband had both died, and it seemed like she was a cursed woman. In fact, in the story we learn that both her husbands were wicked men. Nevertheless, Judah told Tamar that when the third son reached marrying age, she would be guaranteed a husband and a future. She waited and waited, but even though the youngest son became eligible for marriage, there was no talk of a wedding. Judah's wife died, and after the time of mourning was finished, he went on a trip to work with some sheepherders. Tamar was desperate and saw an opportunity. She dressed up as a prostitute and waited on the side of the road. When Judah came along, he saw her and expressed interest in engaging her services, offering to send her a goat when he got home. She insisted that he give her the cord he was wearing and his staff as a personal guarantee. He did so and they had sex. When he got home, he tried to send a goat as payment and get his possessions back, but no one could find the prostitute.

A few months later, Tamar was reported to be pregnant. When word got to Judah, he demanded that she be dragged into the public square to be condemned and burned. He had always had suspicions about her. As Tamar was being brought out, she let it be known that the man who had made her pregnant was the one who owned the cord and staff she had. It was soon revealed that Judah was the one responsible for her pregnancy. Judah's response is noteworthy: "She is more in the right (tzedek) than I." Justice, that attribute which links someone to the nature of God, was found in Tamar, the woman who played a prostitute to trick a man into taking care of a widow.

This reminds me of another story, this time in the New Testament. Jesus was teaching people at the temple when the scribes and Pharisees brought a woman who had been caught in adultery and presented her to Jesus, asking him what to do. The law allowed for the stoning of such a woman, and the religious leaders were trying to trick Jesus into doing something that would allow them to accuse him of breaking the law. Jesus didn't fall for it. Instead, he ignored them, drawing something in the dirt with his finger. They continued to bother him and demand an answer, so he finally said, "Let the first stone be thrown by the one among you who has not sinned." The Pharisees had no response to this, so they left, one by one. Eventually, it was just Jesus and the woman. Jesus asked, "Where is everyone? Did no one condemn you?" She replied that no one had. Then Jesus said, "I don't condemn you either. Go on and sin no more" (John 8).

The Jewish religious leaders had, in fact, not accurately quoted the law. It states that both the man and the woman involved in adultery should be stoned (Lev. 20:10, Deut. 22:24). They were twisting the law to their own purposes: making a trap for Jesus so that they could get rid of him. One commentator has speculated that Jesus writing in the dust might be a reference to the law which forbids writing on the Sabbath, but does permit writing with dust. If this was the case and it was a day of rest, Jesus might have been illustrating that he knew the details of the law just as well as they did and would not be trapped by it. Others have suggested that Jesus wrote words of condemnation regarding the woman's accusers. Whatever the case, in this story we find the same kind of inversion that happens in story of Judah and Tamar: the one looking to condemn someone for an unlawful act is shown to be the one who is unjust. Jesus put the shame of adultery in direct contrast to the shameful way the Jewish leaders were acting (trickery, bending the law to suit their needs, treating the woman with disrespect, rejecting God in the person of Jesus). Jesus does not condemn the woman, but calls her to a new life. We can be prone to over-emphasize this last line (go and sin no more), but in doing so. we unravel the mercy evident in Jesus's refusal to condemn, even though he would have been lawful in doing so. It is important to remember that the law is not the standard for justice, Jesus is, and he requires those doing the judging to reflect on their own sinfulness before judging others (Matt. 7:1-3).

So what is justice? It is that which reflects the nature of God, that which God approves of, and in these two stories, the person on the side of justice is not the religious leader or respected citizen (those in positions of power), but a woman who has committed a shameful act and stands ready to be condemned and killed by her accusers. As I stated before, the law does not equal justice; only God is justice, because being just means being approved by God. So how do we stand on the side of justice, and how do we respond to injustice?

We can be prone to ignoring or doubting stories of injustice when they don't directly affect us. We can complain about the inconvenience of injustice and try to remove ourselves from its effects (NIMBY: not in my backyard). We can be prone to judging (it's their own fault) or begrudgingly agree to do the bare minimum to fulfill the law (like Judah's second son), hoping to mitigate its effect on and cost to us. If we are the ones wronged, we can seek to exact revenge on those who have wronged us, or prosecute someone to the full extent of the law, assuming that we are the faultless ones.

Looking at these two stories, it seems more in keeping with the nature of God to stand as sober witnesses to those who have suffered injustice, making sure that we hear their voices and their complaints. We can pray, repenting for our part in injustice and asking God for healing and reconciliation. We can change the question from "How does this affect me?" to "How does it affect the most vulnerable, the least of these?" We can make sure that we are not stone throwers, but stone catchers (a phrase I came across in Bryan Stevenson's book), that we step in-between those who condemn and the condemned, showing mercy instead of judgment. It is what Jesus does for us everyday. We can seek wisdom to discern what compassionate, thoughtful action we might take. Above all, like Jesus, we can seek to bring hope to the hopeless.

Friday, June 02, 2017

go and ...

This is part two of a series talking about Jesus's calls to come and to go and the relationship between them. You can read the first part, "Come and See," here.

Image result for child imitates mom computer
Image from healthland.time.com
We learn things by being around other people, and they learn things by hanging out with us. That's the way it works. The first people we learned things from were members of our family. Children are natural imitators and they mimic the behaviour and attitudes they see in their parents and other influencers present in their lives (for better or for worse). Growing up on a farm, I learned how to care for animals, how to plant and harvest, how to embrace the seasonal nature of life, and how to shovel manure. Like I said, for better or worse. Not all of the ideas we assimilate are helpful, and as responsible adults, we need to honestly evaluate learned behaviour to see if it contributes to a flourishing life, a good life, a life consistent with the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

Nevertheless, imitation is a very effective teaching tool. Jesus invited his disciples to come and see, to hang out with him and observe what he did and how he interacted with people. They witnessed sermons, healings, conflicts, and impromptu feasts. In other words, they learned what it was like to love the world. In Matthew 9, we find a record of what Jesus's followers saw and heard.

Jesus went through many towns and villages. He taught in their synagogues. He preached the good news of the kingdom of God. He healed every disease and sickness. Whenever crowds came to Him, He had compassion for them because they were so deeply distraught, malaised, and heart-broken. They seemed to Him like lost sheep without a shepherd. Jesus understood what an awesome task was before Him, so He said to His disciples, “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest to send more workers into His harvest field.” (Matthew 9:35-38, The Voice).

But let's not stop reading. There is an important development that follows, and we have to ignore the imposed chapter division in order to fully appreciate it.

Jesus called His twelve disciples to Him. He endowed them with the authority to heal sickness and disease and to drive demons out of those who were possessed. These are the names of the twelve apostles: Simon (who is called Peter, which means “the rock”) and his brother Andrew; James, son of Zebedee, and his brother John; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew (the tax collector); James, son of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; Simon the Zealot and Judas Iscariot (who would betray Him). (Matthew 10:1-4, The Voice)

Let me spell out the development. Jesus invites people to follow him, to come and see his ministry, mission, and method. Those who take up this call to come and see become his disciples, pupils and learners. After they have followed Jesus around for some time and borne witness to his ministry to the sick, the oppressed, the downtrodden, Jesus gives his disciples the authority to do exactly what he has been doing, to carry on the work of the kingdom of God. After this, the language changes. No longer are they called disciples (learners, pupils) but apostles (sent ones, delegates). Their identity is changed. They remain disciples, for they will never stop being followers of Jesus, but they also become representatives of Jesus, doing what he does and bringing the good news of God's kingdom to the world. Responding to Jesus' call to come and see naturally leads to Jesus's commissioning to go and do, or perhaps a better way of putting it, go and be like Jesus.  

So what does it mean to be like Jesus, to do the work of Jesus? What follows in Matthew 10 is a list of instructions for the twelve apostles. The details do not translate directly into our context, but we as contemporary followers of Jesus and "sent ones" can draw some principles from these directives. Below are a few of the specific instructions along with a corresponding general principle for us today.

1. "Jesus sent out these twelve with clear instructions. Don’t go to the outsiders or to the towns inhabited by Samaritans, a people whose Jewish ancestors married Gentiles. Go instead to find and heal the lost sheep of Israel." Start where you are. Before we rush out to save the world, we should look at bringing healing and wholeness to those around us: our families, friends, coworkers, neighbours, and city.
2. "As you go, preach this message: 'The kingdom of heaven is at hand.' Heal the sick, raise the dead, and cleanse those who have leprosy. Drive out demons from the possessed." Our message of hope, demonstrated in our actions, is that God is near, God is a healer, God brings life, God is a restorer, God brings freedom.
3. "You received these gifts freely, so you should give them to others freely. Do not take money with you: don’t take gold, silver, or even small, worthless change. Do not pack a bag with clothes. Do not take sandals or a walking stick. Be fed and sheltered by those who show you hospitality." Let us be generous with what God has given us, and allow others to be generous with us. Let us travel light, live simply, and trust God to supply everything we need.
4. "Listen: I am sending you out to be sheep among wolves. You must be as shrewd as serpents and as innocent as doves. You must be careful. You must be discerning. You must be on your guard." We can expect opposition and expect to be treated badly. We should never assume that everything will go our way. Let us learn wisdom. Let us cultivate discernment. Let us practice faithfulness. Let us be courageous. Do not fear. We can trust God in all circumstances.

Jesus's invitation to come and see, to participate in the life of Jesus and in the lives of others, is always linked to Jesus's commissioning to be delegates, to bring the life and love of Jesus wherever we go. The Greek word, erchomai, means both "come" and "go." This is the dual invitation of Jesus. 

Tuesday, May 09, 2017

Come and See

A friend of mine was recently verbally abused at a bus stop. He was told to go back to his country and take his filthy diseases with him (my paraphrase). My friend is here on a work visa, married to a Canadian, and employed as a pastor at a church. The lady obviously didn't know anything about him, his legal status, or his hygienic habits. Because the colour of his skin was a slight shade different than hers, she felt free to judge him. [1] I must admit that when I heard about the incident, I felt a bit free to judge that lady, too, even though I know nothing about her and have no idea why she felt threatened by a kind, gentle, and compassionate man. I am reminded of the saying, "Don't judge someone until you have walked a mile in their moccasins." Walking a mile in someone else's shoes is not easy, especially since we find our own shoes so much more comfortable, but it is central to the gospel of Jesus.

In John 1, we see Jesus interacting with two of John's disciples. John has just pointed out that Jesus is the Lamb of God, and these disciples are intrigued. They want to know more, so they start to follow Jesus.

Jesus: What is it that you want?
Two Disciples: We'd like to know where You are staying. Teacher, may we remain at Your side today?
Jesus: Come and see. Follow Me, and we will camp together.
It was about four o-clock in the afternoon when they met Jesus. They came and saw where He was staying, but they got more than they imagined. They remained with Him the rest of the day and followed Him for the rest of their lives.  (John 1:36-41, The Voice)

I like this particular translation/paraphrase of the incident because it adds some meaningful commentary (the words in italics) which fleshes out the implications of the interaction. The potential disciples want to hang out with Jesus and find out what he is all about. Jesus replies with that wonderful, concise invitation, "Come and see." What does he mean by this? The Greek word for "come" is erchomai. It means "to come, to go, moving from one place to another." While English speakers might think that using the same word for "come" and "go" is rather imprecise, the expansive nature of the term allows it to express a sense that moving or going is always related to the welcome waiting at the end of the journey. Perhaps we have something to learn from this close association between commission and invitation. The Greek word for "see" is horao and it means to look upon, experience, perceive. In other words, it is much more than just observing something with your sense of sight. To see means to experience and understand in some way.

The invitation to "Come and see" is not an invitation to be a tourist, to see a few sights, taste a bit of local food, take a few selfies with the natives, and move on. The invitation to "Come and see" is a call to move in.  Eugene Peterson captures this sentiment when he paraphrases John 1:14. "The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighbourhood" (The Message). The reason Jesus issues the invitation to "Come and see" is because it is part of his incarnational message, and he has already modeled it. Jesus came and saw what it meant to be fully human. He lived among us and did virtually nothing but become familiar with our world for the first thirty years of his life. He did not seek to teach/minister/heal until he had learned what it meant to be a human being in the first century. Jesus came to this world not as a tourist, but as a resident. He came as a baby, learning from day one what it meant to be hungry, to have growing pains, to be tired, to feel pain, to obey your parents, to be part of a family, to trust others to take care of you, to work hard, to learn by listening and imitating. His first task was not to save the world, but to live in the world, to "Come and see."

We sometimes miss this vital part of the gospel of Jesus. Before we invite people into our church gatherings or expect them to adopt our worldview and faith, we should consider being present in their settings and learning what it is like to walk in their shoes. Hospitality is more that just inviting people over to our homes for a meal or a brief stay in our guest room. Hospitality includes going to other people's spaces, getting out of our comfort zones (where we have some measure of control) and going and seeing what life looks like for someone else.

Image result for shoes for women high heels 2014
Image from madeforpakistan.com
There is a story (I can't find the original source, so I might get some details wrong) about a group of well-meaning Westerners who showed up in a poor village in a distant country, intent on helping the people there establish more sustainable ways of living. The villagers struggled to maintain a consistent, plentiful food supply, so the foreigners decided that the perfect solution was to plant crops. They decided to start off with tomatoes, and rallied all the villagers to work together on preparing the ground and planting rows and rows of plants. The results were encouraging. Within a few months, round, red orbs were ripening on the vines. One night, when the tomatoes were almost ready to harvest, the wildlife in the area descended on the field and ate and trampled the entire crop. The next morning, the foreigners were devastated by the sight of the destroyed plants, but the villagers just shrugged. The foreigners were puzzled as to why the villagers were not more upset by the loss of an entire crop of food. The villagers replied that they knew this would happen. The wildlife always came to eat anything they grew, so they did not plant large fields of crops out in the open. The foreigners were a bit miffed. Why had no one told them this before they had put all that time, money, and effort into planting a crop? The villagers said, "You never asked," and added,"You were so excited about the project that we didn't want to be impolite and refuse to help." Truth be told, the foreigners acted more like tourists than residents, imposing their ideas on the locals instead of taking the time to come and see, to learn from the villagers, to spend time walking a mile in their shoes before asserting their Western ideas. Sadly, some of the church's missionary efforts more closely resemble tourism than "come and see" incarnation.
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Image from dailyemerald.com

So how do we begin to practice being with others in a meaningful way? How do we "come and see?" I have no easy solutions, but I do have a few suggestions.
1. Learn to listen. By this I do not mean a passive posture where we let someone talk while we think about our clever response, but an active, engaged, intentional entering into the story of another. True listening means that we refrain from offering advice (unless specifically asked for), refrain from prescribing a course of action, refrain from relating everything back to our own situation (thereby pulling the focus away from them and back to us), and use imaginative compassion to put ourselves into their situation, to see ourselves walking a mile in their shoes.
2. Go to people in their settings. I don't mean intruding on people's lives or showing up at someone's door without concern for their ability to receive visitors, but making ourselves available to be with people in their setting in a way that shows our genuine interest in them and their situation. The posture is one of learning, of humble openness to see the world through their eyes. It requires time and patience, ears to hear and eyes to see. There is an organisation called Movein which encourages Christians to prayerfully move in among the unreached, urban poor. Their mission is to love their neighbours by living among them, by being one of them. In this way, the gospel is not something presented by outsiders; it lives next door. [2]
3. Develop purposeful habits.
   a. If you are a reader, read books which will take you out of your own experience. One of my friends has this rule: for every one book he reads by a white male, he reads two by a woman or person of colour. [3]
   b. If you are present on social media, make sure your circle of friends or your feed includes viewpoints which challenge yours. Learn how to listen without interjecting or arguing. Learn how to interact kindly with those who think differently than you do and whose experience is different from yours.
   c. We cannot be physical neighbours to everyone, but we can look for opportunities to stand in solidarity with those who have been wounded or are struggling. Let them know that they are not alone. When a white supremacist marched into a black church in Charleston, South Carolina during a prayer service in 2015 and killed 9 people, the community was in shock. A small black church in Halifax, Nova Scotia called a prayer vigil to mourn the tragedy and pray for reconciliation. They issued personal invitations to all the churches in the city and got the word out in the media. A friend of mine who attended this prayer meeting said that aside from a few invited officials asked to speak from the platform, only 6 people outside the black community showed up. [4] We must do better than this. We must learn to love our neighbours in the way that Jesus described in the parable of the good Samaritan. We don't have to agree with everything someone says or believes or even like them in order to be their neighbour. We do have to be people who will stand with those who are struggling and hurt and in need of help.

I close with a poem penned by Mary T. Lathrap in 1895. Its words ring clear and true to this day.

Walk a Mile in His Moccasins

Pray, don't find fault with the man that limps,
Or stumbles along the road.
Unless you have worn the moccasins he wears,
Or stumbled beneath the same load.

There may be tears in his soles that hurt
Though hidden away from view.
The burden he bears placed on your back
May cause you to stumble and fall, too.

Don't sneer at the man who is down today
Unless you have felt the same blow
That caused his fall or felt the shame
That only the fallen know.

You may be strong, but still the blows
That were his, unknown to you in the same way
May cause you to stagger and fall, too.

Don't be too harsh with the man that sins.
Or pelt him with words, or stone, or disdain.
Unless you are sure you have no sins of your own,
And it's only wisdom and love that your heart contains.

For you know if the tempter's voice
Should whisper as soft to you,
As it did to him when he went astray,
It might cause you to falter, too.

Just walk a mile in his moccasins
Before you abuse, criticize and accuse.
If just for one hour, you could find a way
To see through his eyes, instead of your own muse.

I believe you'd be surprised to see
That you've been blind and narrow minded, even unkind.
There are people on reservations and in the ghettos
Who have so little hope, and too much worry on their minds.

Brother, there but for the grace of God go you and I.
Just for a moment, slip into his mind and traditions
And see the world through his spirit and eyes
Before you cast a stone or falsely judge his conditions.

Remember to walk a mile in his moccasins
And remember the lessons of humanity taught to you by your elders.
We will be known forever by the tracks we leave
In other people's lives, our kindnesses and generosity.

Take the time to walk a mile in his moccasins.

Image result for homeless shoes
Image from kindnessblog.com

[1] Thanks to Suhail Stephen for letting me share this story. 
[2] www.movein.to
[3] Thanks to Chad Lucas for this bit of wisdom.
[4] Thanks to Beth Wood for letting me share this story.

Monday, May 01, 2017

2 fishing stories

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Image from pinterest.com
There are quite a few fishing stories in the gospels. Because many of the disciples were fishermen, this is only natural. These stories are not just cultural snapshots of the lives of people in the first century; these narratives tell us something about the disciples or Jesus or both. Two stories in particular seem connected not only because of their amazing and miraculous catch, but because they show us something about the faith journey of one of the disciples, Peter. Here are the two stories:

Story 1:
When [Jesus] had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken ... Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” (Luke 5:4-10, NRSV)

Story 2:
Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off. (John 21:4-8, NRSV)

In the first story, Jesus calls the fishermen to follow him, to change their occupation and leave the fishing life (in the literal sense) behind. This first encounter with Jesus and the many fish is early on in Peter's relationship with Jesus, when the disciples are not exactly sure who Jesus is or what the implications of following him might be. The second story takes place after Jesus has been crucified, been raised from the dead, and appeared to his disciples a few times. At this point, Peter has been through an emotional roller coaster. First, it appears as if Jesus is about to start a political revolution (yay!), then Jesus is arrested, leaving the disciples angry, confused, and afraid (what?), then Jesus dies and their hopes are dashed (nooooooooo!!!!), then Jesus appears to them in resurrected form and causes great excitement (is this really happening?), but they are not sure what it means for them (what do we do now?). So Peter goes back to what he knows: fishing. And this is when he encounters the risen Christ (and the fishes) again.

Mark Buchanan makes an interesting observation about the first story where Jesus is calling Peter. When the disciple says, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man," it may be more than just a shameful awareness of his shabby, sordid life. Mark wonders if it might be "an evasion ploy, a diversionary tactic, a rash outburst to buy himself some time. After all, Peter says those words while standing knee-deep in fish. The catch of a lifetime. His biggest windfall ever. ... That boatful of fish would have cashed out nicely. It would have paid a lot of bills, bought a lot of upgrades, provided a few luxuries. It would have made Peter's hardscrabble existence not so hard and scrabbly."[1] But the call of Jesus is to leave everything behind (including winning the fish lottery) and follow. Mark notes that, "Peter's first instinct is to dodge the light." [1]

The second story shows a very different reaction from Peter. When another huge catch of fish is suddenly his for the taking, Peter does not hesitate. Instead of needing some distance from Jesus, he "plunges into the water ... and comes up panting and dripping, hoping with everything in him that Jesus will reissue the call, the hard call to follow him. Jesus does not disappoint." [2]

The question that Jesus asks Peter in John 21 is this: Do you love me more than these? More than the boatload of fish, more than the fishing buddies, more than the life you know? And Peter says yes, yes, yes.

There is a simple prayer exercise which speaks to the themes we find in these two fishing stories. It is called Palms Down, Palms Up.

Palms Down: "Begin by placing your palms down as a symbolic indication of your desire to turn over any concerns you may have to God." [3] This is a posture, both physical and mental, of letting go, of surrendering. You may surrender anger, fear, anxiety, or frustration. Or you may let go of the fishes in your life, the good things which vie for your loyalty and love. Some find it helpful to picture giving these things to Jesus instead of just letting them fall to the ground.

Palms Up: "After several moments of surrender, turn your palms up as a symbol of your desire to receive from the Lord." [3] After letting go of anger, you might ask to receive love, after letting go of fear, anxiety, and frustration, you might ask to receive peace, patience, and joy. After letting go of the fishes in your life, you might want to ask Jesus to issue or reissue his call on your life. What is he asking you to commit yourself to?

Because my heart and hands so quickly fill with concerns, burdens, and fears, I usually find myself alternating between surrendering (palms down) and receiving (palms up) in my prayer time. The two are intricately related. If my hands are full, I cannot receive what he is offering. And if I am constantly obsessed with everything I need to surrender, I am unable to receive the fullness Jesus offer me. The life of Peter reveals that both of these postures (letting go and receiving) are not one-time events. Walking with Jesus is an ongoing journey, an adventure in learning and relearning how to say yes, how to let go, how to love, how to give, how to receive, how to fish.

-----------------------
1. Mark Buchanan, Spiritual Rhythm (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2010), 234.
2. Ibid., 235.
3. Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth (HarperSanFrancisco, 1978; 1998), 30-31.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

what is salvation?


Why is Easter important? It is arguably the high point of the Christian calendar, celebrating Jesus' victory over death and sin. It is also a time of fulfillment in which darkness gives way to light, death gives way to life, the kingdom of earth gives way to the kingdom of God, and the final sacrifice for sin is offered. But what exactly happened when Jesus died and was resurrected?

The Christian church has many ways of explaining or illustrating the saving work of Christ. The Orthodox Icon of the Resurrection pictured above (there are several versions) is one of the most celebrated icons in the church. Icons, in addition to being invitations to prayer, are meant to be instructive. Here we see the risen Christ descending to Hades, grabbing Adam and Eve by the wrists, and raising them from their tombs. The position of Christ's hands denotes that the two being raised have no active part in the process; the work is all Christ's. The doors (gates), chains, and keys underneath Christ's feet represent him freeing those held captive to sin and death. The figures to each side of Christ include John the Baptist and Moses, and stand for all those awaiting the coming of the Messiah.

Another pictorial representation of salvation is found in the diagram below. Here we see a great chasm between a holy God and sinful humanity and Christ acting as a bridge between the two.
Image from preceptaustin.org
Note that the human figure is about to walk over the Jesus-bridge to the holy God. This is a bit of a problem, theologically, because God in Christ is the one who comes to us, even while we are in our sinful state. God is not distant and immovable on his holy throne as this diagram suggests, and we are not the ones trying to get to God as this figure is doing. Instead, God is the one seeking us out. One of the names of the Messiah reveals the divine character as "God with us."

Over the centuries, there have been many models of salvation put forth by theologians seeking to explain what happened in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. As with any models or metaphors, they all break down at some point. It is also important to note that most of the models reflect a specific historical context and, because of this, some prove more helpful to us than others. While no one model can adequately depict salvation, I hope that by looking at a variety of them we will develop a better understanding of what happened when Jesus died on the cross and rose again the third day.

Redemption: When something is redeemed, it is bought back. In theological terms, we were slaves to death and sin and Jesus paid the purchase price for our freedom (see Galatians 4:5, Titus 2:14). This model was particularly meaningful to those living in a context of slavery (the first century followers of Jesus). If you were a slave, your life was not your own. However, if someone paid the required price to redeem you, you became a free person, no longer indentured to a master. The metaphor of redemption is about gaining freedom and entering a whole new way of life as a result. If we try to push the metaphor too far by asking, "Whom did Jesus pay? Was it the devil? Was it a just God?" we start to lose the beauty and significance of the word picture. The point of the redemption metaphor is not the transaction, but the freedom that is offered.

Satisfaction: This model of salvation is primarily associated with Anselm of Canterbury (1033-1109). Anselm said that we owe God a debt of honour which we are incapable of giving him, but through Jesus, God is honoured and our debt is fulfilled or satisfied (see John 5:22-24). The context for this model was the 11th century when a derivative of tribal law based on a stratified society was in force. In other words, there were various castes (nobility, peasant, serfs) with varying degrees of authority, rights, and freedoms. Loyalty was due to the king and, by default, those who represented the king (nobility). To dishonour the king was akin to treason. Thus, Anselm's model posits God as having the highest demand on human loyalty, a debt of fealty which we are incapable of honouring. This model echoes the political nature of the phrase uttered by the early believers, "Jesus is Lord," which directly confronted the authority of Caesar. Today, it would be similar to saying Jesus is President or Jesus is Prime Minister. The satisfaction model does not have much traction in the Protestant tradition, perhaps because sin and guilt do not feature prominently. Interestingly, Anselm was exiled for resisting King William II and King Henry I on issues having to do with the authority of the monarch over church matters. The point of this model is that "Jesus is Lord" has significant ramifications in the life of the believer.

Penal Substitution: In this model, Jesus is punished in our place in order to satisfy God's justice and holiness. God as judge can justly declare a person righteous by imputing the righteousness of Jesus to the believer (see Romans 4:5, 8:30-33). This view is common among evangelicals and has its roots in the Protestant Reformation. John Calvin (1509-1564), a trained lawyer, believed that a juridical setting was helpful to explain the workings of salvation. This model has its weaknesses theologically, mainly because everything centres around a justice system which even God seems subject to. It is also problematic to make judgment the prime motivation behind Jesus' sacrifice instead of love (see John 3:16-17). We do find judicial language in the scriptures to describe salvation, but the law is only one of many metaphors used to illuminate the mystery of salvation through Christ. Pushing the metaphor too far results in mercy, love, and grace being virtually eliminated due to the view that salvation is a dispassionate court transaction. The point of this model is that the status of the believer changes from condemned to righteous.

Reconciliation: This model focuses on bringing an estranged people back into relationship with God (see Romans 5:10-11, 2 Corinthians 5:18-19). The context here is the Old Covenant giving way to the next chapter in the story, the New Covenant. When Jesus died, the tearing of the temple curtain signaled that the way to God was open. Instead of the Holy of Holies being the locus of God's presence, the people of God were to be the house of God, carrying his presence through the Spirit of Jesus. This model has some similarity to the diagram above where Christ is the bridge to God, but we must be careful not to push the separation of God and humanity too far. The Psalmist reminds us that we cannot flee from the presence of God. We must also be careful not to dismiss the ongoing reconciling initiative of God or assume that God turns his back on sinners. Even when we were in sin, God showed his love for us (see Romans 5:8). The point of this model is the generous offer of reconciliation which God never withdraws.

Rescue: The language of rescue is common in our talk of salvation. Jesus rescues or saves us from sin and death (see Romans 5:9, 1 Timothy 1:15, 2 Timothy 1:9). It is important to remember that the Jews of Jesus' time were under oppressive Roman rule. They were desperate for a Saviour because their religion, their liberty, and their safety were under constant threat. They longed to be free in their own land, free to worship their own God and work for the well-being of their own families. The oppressed respond to the story of Jesus quite differently than those who enjoy the privileges of freedom, safety, and plenty. Instead of viewing the suffering and death of Jesus as a blip on the way to a grand and victorious resurrection, our brothers and sisters who suffer see the solidarity of God in the agony of the cross. Jesus not only knows what they endure but endures it with them. He does not turn his back on the undesirables but joins them as one of the despised, one of the outcasts. One possible weakness of this model is that we can see salvation as a one-time, dramatic event instead of an ongoing process of transformation. The point of this model is moving from a life under threat to a life of shalom.

Though the language of all the above models (and this list is by no means exhaustive) can be found in the biblical texts, no one model manages to capture the depth and mystery of the saving work of Christ. However, there is one model which I believe is highly resonant for our time and context, and that is the model of participation. 

Participation: In this model of salvation, the emphasis is not on a debt to be paid or justice being served, but on receiving a gift from a loving and generous God. The starting point is not God (or the devil) demanding payment or punishment. Instead, we begin with a good Creator inviting all of creation to participate in loving relationship with the Creator and with the rest of creation. Throughout history, in one way or another, humanity refuses this generous offer of participation and we find ourselves separated from God. This means we are separated from life, from love, from peace, from goodness. It seems like God has forsaken us, left us to suffer and die, but the God of life never stops offering participation in his life. At the cross, Christ entered fully into humanity (pain, suffering, death) so that we, in turn, might share in the light and life and holiness and righteousness of Christ. Christ's participation in our life invites our participation in his so that we no longer have to live separated from God but can receive the gift of Emmanuel, God with us (see John 15:1-17).

In this model, resurrection is not seen as an act of power (good triumphs over evil) but of love. Love goes to the deepest and darkest corners of life, love finds the lowest places, love suffers and endures it all, but love cannot be kept down, cannot be killed. I find it helpful to think of a trampoline. Love comes tumbling down from the sky like a giant ball. It hits the fabric of life's trampoline and goes down, down, down, all the way to the bottom where suffering and death lurk, and when the giant ball of love has touched the very lowest point, crushing the ugly netherworld, it rises. This is what love was made to do. Love was made to go down low and come back up. You could call resurrection a giant love bounce. 

When we think of salvation, let us think in terms of gift, not transaction. In terms of love, not power or victory. It is interesting to note that after Jesus rose from the dead, he did not greet his disciples with exclamations of victory or proclamations of power. He said, "Peace (wholeness, completeness, security, flourishing, contentment, friendship, harmony) be with you." That peace sustained the disciples through persecution, hardship, and martyrdom. They said Yes to Jesus' invitation to participate in his life of love and sacrifice.

What Jesus did, what God did, what the Spirit does are all birthed out of love. Justice and judgment are aspects of love, not counterbalances to love. Love defines justice. Love is what makes justice just. Love never fails.

Thanks be to God for the gift of love through Jesus Christ.
In death, in life, Jesus is present with us.
Sin cannot snuff out love.
Love always burns bright.
Even death cannot destroy love.
Love always remains. 
For God expressed His love for the world in this way: He gave His only Son so that whoever believes in Him will not face everlasting destruction, but will have everlasting life. Here’s the point. God didn’t send His Son into the world to judge it; instead, He is here to rescue a world headed toward certain destruction. (John 3:16-17, The Voice) 
Love is here.
Let love have his way in us today.

Thursday, April 06, 2017

when words fail...

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Words. Words. Words.
Sometimes I tire of them.
Well... that's not exactly true.
I do not tire of them as much as I lose my grip on them.
And then they tumble down, untethered from significance and meaning and emotion.
They become husks without seeds.
Clothes without a warm body.
Balloons without breath.
Sounds without intelligibility.

I am writing words right now.
This morning I have probably read more words than some will read all day.
I live in the world of words, a world I love.
But for many days now -
Perhaps weeks or months, if I am truthful -
When it comes time to pray, I have few words.
If I am alone, I will sit in silence at my table.
Perhaps light a candle.
Aside from the occasional Thank you 
Or God, you know
Or What  are we doing? 
Not much is said or thought.
If I am with others, I hesitate.
Because anything I might say in the way of prayer seems weak at best and untrue at worst.
I can ask that someone will know that God is with them.
I can say, Help!
And often, that is all I can muster (in honesty) in the public prayer department.
I sit or stand beside people as a form of prayer.
I touch people if that seems appropriate.
I say their name and lift my hands to the sky.
God, you know.

The daily Jewish prayer found in Deuteronomy 6:4-6 begins with the word shema.
It means listen.
Turn your attention to.
Focus on.
Hear and do.
Listening is active.
It requires care-ful and mind-ful devotion.
We turn our bodies and faces and eyes and ears and hearts and minds toward another.
We listen with our whole being...while saying nothing.
We cannot be wordy people and listen well.
And that is perhaps why I have a word shortage right now.
I am learning to listen.
To lean in and hear the divine Lover's breath exhaling and inhaling.
To participate in the unhurried patience of the Longsuffering One.
To hold my breath so I can catch another's hopeful whisper or stifled groan.
To sit still in the midst of trouble and frenzy.
Not cluttering the air with senseless platitudes or advice which is wise only in my own ears.

Listen.
It is an imperative.
A command.
A discipline.
A blessing.
A respite.
A surrender.
A repentance.
An undoing and a doing all in one.
Listen.

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Listen, Israel: The Lord is our God. The Lord is the only God. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. Take to heart these words that I give you today.
(Deuteronomy 6:4-6, God's Word Translation)

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

where does community come from?

Image result for community people
Image from makingsociologymatter.com
I recently taught a course on Building Christian Community. We began with our own stories of community done well and community that hurt instead of helped. I heard tales of people showing sacrificial love and generously embracing differences. I also heard stories of pain from fractured relationships, and disappointment with ill-conceived directives from the powers that be. My own experience has shown me that quite often the church does not have a clear idea of what genuine community looks like. Many church communities in the West model the values found in consumer-driven, capitalist contexts, exhibiting an odd mixture of corporate sensibilities and spiritual propaganda.

When it comes to Christian community, our model is the Trinity. Speaking about three persons who are one grates a bit on the logical mind, but the idea of a communal God needs to be understood relationally, not logically. Part of the problem in understanding the idea of Trinity is that we in the Western world believe that the "one-ness" of God holds sway over the "three-ness" of God. This emphasis on one-ness can lead us down some sketchy paths both theologically and practically, because it directs our attention to uniformity instead of complexity, to authority rather than equanimity, to unifying doctrines and creeds instead of the movement of love.

Brazilian theologian Leonardo Boff writes: "We believe that God is communion rather than solitude. It is not a 'one' that is primary but the 'three.' The Three come first. Then, because of the intimate relationship between the 'three' comes the 'one' as expressing the unity of the three. Believing in the Trinity means that at the root of everything that exists and subsists there is movement; there is an eternal process of life, of outward movement, of love. Believing in the Trinity means that truth is on the side of communion rather than exclusion; consensus translates truth better than imposition; the participation of many is better than the dictate of a single one. Believing in the Trinity means accepting that everything is related to everything and so makes up one great whole, and that unity comes from a thousand convergences rather than from one factor alone." [1]

What Boff points out here is that beginning with one-ness (insisting on uniformity) perpetuates inadequate models of community and church. It also leaves us with problematic hierarchical forms of leadership and authority. Even more basically, our understanding of Trinity impacts how we interact with those we deem "the other." If we begin with one-ness, we are prone to trying to assimilate those who are not like us.

The mysterious specificity of a community of three is not immediately obvious, especially to those of us who live in a society which champions individuality. Boff explains, "If there were only one Unique One, only one God, solitude would ultimately be all there was. Underlying the whole universe, so diverse and so harmonious, would not be communion but only solitude." [2] If God is One and only ever One, there is no foundation or reason for community, and it makes sense that we are forever doomed to live as fractured humanity futilely trying to impose some sense of uniformity on each other. Boff continues, "If there were two Unique Ones, the Father and the Son, separation would be uppermost. One would be different from the other; and so there would be exclusion; one would not be the other." [2] Separation and exclusion are rife in our society; it is our lived experience. We are constantly comparing ourselves to others, noting the differences between us and them, and as a result of these differences, excluding people from our circle of friends. The reason for three-ness becomes clear. "Through the Trinity, the solitude of the One is avoided, the separation of the Two (Father and Son) is also overcome, and the exclusion of one from the other (Father from Son, Son from Father) is overcome. The Trinity allows for communion and inclusion. ... The Trinity shows that underlying everything existing and moving there dwells an impulse of unification, communion, and eternal synthesis of those who are distinct in an infinite, living personal, loving, and absolutely fulfilling whole." [2]

The source of all community is the Trinity: three persons who give themselves to each other with such abandon that one cannot see one without seeing the other. Not one of them comes before the other, they are all first and all last. Their embrace and communication are eternal, having no beginning and no end. Their differences are not erased but celebrated through mutual surrender. "The fundamental characteristic of each divine Person is to be for the others, through the others, with the others, and in the others. Each living Person is eternally vivified by vivifying the others and sharing the life of the others." [3] This is a great and wonderful mystery. And perhaps an even greater mystery is the generous invitation of the Trinity to share in their loving communion, to be one as they are one.

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Teach us what it means to live together in community, joined together by your bond of love.

[1] Leonardo Boff, Holy Trinity: Blessed Community (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2000), xvi.
[2] Boff, 6.
[3] Boff, 48.

Monday, March 06, 2017

what does the cross mean?




Image result for cross coloring
Image from bestcoloringpagesforkids.com
Words which we use a lot can sometimes become divested of their depth of meaning. In the Christian tradition, we talk about the cross a lot. We see visual representations of the cross in prominent places in our gathering spaces, we wear crosses around our necks, some get crosses tattooed on their bodies. The cross is a ubiquitous symbol in Christianity, so lately I have been asking myself, what exactly does the cross mean? For the most part, the cross as portrayed in contemporary Christianity is a beautiful thing, festooned with flowers and sunsets and radiant beams of light (just google cross or cross coloring page). But in the first century, the cross was a symbol of disgrace. To the Roman empire, this ignoble instrument of death was for those who were traitors and enemies of the state. We are many centuries removed from this view of the cross as the locus of torture and death and shame. The fact that Christianity has made the cross a symbol of hope and beauty is a good thing, but perhaps we have also sanitized it from its original scandalous context. 

What I have been pondering in relation to the cross are Jesus's words to his disciples, found in Matthew, Mark, and Luke: "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me." (Mark 8:34, NRSV) What does it mean to take up your cross? In the midst of mulling over this question, I awoke one morning to find a Lenny Kravitz song running through my mind: Are You Gonna Go My Way? Here are some of the lyrics: 

I was born long ago
I am the chosen I'm the one
I have come to save the day
And I won't leave until I'm done
So that's why you've got to try 
You've got to breathe and have some fun
Though I'm not paid I play this game
And I won't stop until I'm done

But what I really want to know is
Are you gonna go my way?

Kravitz's commentary on the song is enlightening: “I’m singing lines like ‘I was born long ago’ and ‘I’m the chosen I’m the one’, but obviously it’s not about me,” he clarifies. “It’s about Christ, and it’s coming from the Jesus Christ Superstar kind of place. I’m singing in role, y’know, as if it was a musical, and the question means: are you gonna go the way of love? Let’s think about what Christ really said. His methods were all about love. So the question is, are you gonna continue to live in this way, full of hate, or are you gonna live in the way of love? Are you gonna go my way?” – Interview with Lenny Kravitz in Classic Rock Magazine (2011)

Image result for jesus carrying cross passion of the christ
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According to the gospels, going Jesus's way means denying ourselves, taking up our cross, and following Jesus. So let's take a closer look at these three aspects. First, the context. Jesus addresses his disciples with these words after he performs a miracle of feeding thousands of people, after Jesus asks his disciples who people say he is, after Peter declares that Jesus is the Messiah, after Jesus tells his disciples about the suffering, death, and resurrection to come (which his disciples can't comprehend), after Peter rebukes Jesus for saying such things, and after Jesus rebukes Peter for trying to stand in the way of what God is doing. It seems that being a follower of Jesus required some clarification, because even his disciples were misunderstanding what it meant to follow Jesus. 

Deny yourself means to refuse to recognize the self as source. In some way, we disown the self. In other words, it does not own us or call the shots. Take up means to lift something up to carry it, and the implication is that one must first put something aside (the self) in order to be able to take up something else (the cross). The cross refers to the actual physical cross-beam that was carried by a condemned person to the site of their execution. The cross, originally a symbol for suffering and disgrace, became a symbol of infinite love and sacrifice when placed on the shoulders of Jesus the Christ. The word follow comes from the Greek akoloutheo and it joins two words: unity + road. It means to be going in the same way as someone (as Kravitz sings). Perhaps one reason Jesus felt he had to spell this out to his disciples was because they were confused as to what going the way of Jesus looked like.

In his book, The Jesus Way, Eugene Peterson contrasts the way of Jesus with the way of several high profile leaders of the time.[1] His points help us understand how radical Jesus's way was and why Jesus's followers (and you and I) find it hard to comprehend and embrace the counter-cultural, counter-self-interest, counter-power structure, counter-control way of Jesus.

Herod vs. Jesus: Peterson observes that Herod was impressive. Herod was effective. Herod was successful. He got things done by importance, bigness, and power. No one did kingdom better than Herod. But Jesus lived as if Herod barely existed. "Jesus ignored the world of power and accomplishment that was brilliantly on display all around him. He chose to work on the margins of society, with unimportant people, giving particular attention to the weak, the disturbed, the powerless" (Peterson, 204). Jesus chose to forgo the pursuit of importance and power. Instead, he focused on relationships which reflected God's love and heart for reconciliation.

Pharisees vs. Jesus: Thousands of years ago, in the face of great pressure for the Jewish people to adopt Greek civilization (laws were passed forbidding Sabbath-keeping, circumcision, temple sacrifices, etc.), the Pharisees rose up to preserve and reinforce the Jewish identity. They did so not only by pushing back against the governmental laws but by also implementing new rules and customs meant to keep the Jewish identity sharp. The Pharisees were passionate protectors, protesting anything they perceived as a threat to their way of life, but they got stuck in protect and protest mode. Jesus did not take his cue from the loyal intensity of the Pharisees. He was not obsessed with purity and precision or rules which defined and defended and regulated. His way was personal and relational, inviting participation from perceived outsiders. Instead of emphasizing purity, he showed people the love and mercy of God. Instead of protecting himself from threats and dangers, he demonstrated trust in God and talked about a kingdom which is greater than any force on earth. 

Caiaphas the High Priest vs. Jesus: Peterson characterizes Caiaphas as impatient with being a servant of God and impatient with God's people. As a result, Caiaphas took control of things. He set himself up as a manager of God's business, doling out salvation and damnation, collecting taxes, and becoming a power player by cozying up to the governing Romans. In this way he was able to enjoy wealth and influence during a time when most Jewish people were outcasts and second-class citizens. However, we must remember that the way of Jesus is not a path to privilege. When the cross-beam landed on Jesus's shoulders, it meant he was headed for death and disgrace. Most of Jesus's disciples eventually walked that same path: they spent their lives discipling others, preaching the good news of the Messiah, healing the sick, and dying horrible deaths because they followed Jesus. Peterson writes: "[Jesus] said 'Follow me' and ended up with a lot of losers. And these losers ended up, through no virtue or talent of their own, becoming saints. Jesus wasn't after the best but the worst. He came to seek and to save the lost" (Peterson, 219).

Zealots vs. Jesus: Zealots have great courage and determination, going to any lengths to aid their cause, even violence. When the opposition is identified (and labeled as evil), they will use force, bullying, manipulating, and even killing in order to gain the victory for their side (which is labelled as good). When faced with unfriendly treatment, two of Jesus's disciples (James and John) asked Jesus, "Do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?" Jesus rebuked them. His way was to overcome evil with good, not by using force or violence or retaliation. Sadly, church history recounts wars, killings, and devastation incited by zealots who fought in the name of Jesus. For the medieval Crusaders, the cross painted on their shields was not a symbol of sacrificial love, of giving their lives for the sake of others, but a justification for the taking of lives, particularly those deemed heretics. It is easy to condemn the mistakes of the past, but we are guilty as well. "Men and women in our Christian nation are still killing others in the name of Jesus, sometimes with guns, sometimes with words. Do we forget so easily that Jesus equated word-killing and sword-killing (Matt. 5:21-22)? (Peterson, 260). Jesus showed us a merciful and loving God, not a zealot God.

The question, "Are You Gonna Go My Way?" is one that Jesus asks each one of us who would be his followers. Will we unseat ourselves as the centre and source of our lives? Will we refuse to take on the role of protectors of purity and align ourselves with the suffering in the world? Will we offer healing and hope to others through the sacrifice of loving action? Will we stop seeking after importance and power and begin to cultivate relationships with the poor, the needy, the broken? Where we are prone to defensiveness and protest, will we join ourselves to others in a way that demonstrates vulnerability and humility? Will we deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow Jesus?

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[1] Eugene H. Peterson, The Jesus Way: a conversation on the ways that Jesus is the way (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Company, 2007).,