Tuesday, February 23, 2010

"Not so with You"


People desire power and control over other people. This desire is one of the chief aspects of our sin nature, expressing itself daily in our lives. Our world revolves around the dynamic of striving to gain the upper hand on your enemy or assailant. The abuse of power and authority is rampant throughout our society.

One of Jesus' most radical teachings was the suggestion that in the Kingdom of God, the first would be last and the last would be first. This grinds against everything we understand of the world. When we think about power and authority, it is always power and authority accompanied by force and aggression. Humanity is much more prone to war than to diplomacy.

Late in His ministry, Jesus washed His disciples feet as they reclined to take a the Passover meal. This act was almost offensive to the disciples. The master never washed his students' feet, for foot washing was a lowly, servile act. But what Jesus was trying to illustrate was that leaders in the Kingdom would have to be servants of all.

Jesus and the disciples had discussed this idea before the Triumphal Entry, after James and John had asked Jesus to give them positions of authority in the earthly kingdom they thought He was about to usher in. Instead Jesus says this to His disciples:
"You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them. Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be your slave - Just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many." (Matthew 20:25-28)

I have been in positions of authority over other people, and this passage can be hard to swallow. My natural tendency is to assert my authority over the people I'm leading, to proclaim my own importance. This is something that many pastors struggle with today; this tension between being a spiritual leader but without being the superior of his congregants. How can you maintain good leadership without reminding them who the leader is? With sacrificial service.

The Apostle Paul, minister to the Gentiles and founder of countless churches, is a near perfect template for sacrificial service. He had direct spiritual influence over the many churches he helped plant and was commissioned by Christ Himself to carry the gospel to the Gentile world. But yet in his epistles, we never observe Paul aggressively enforcing his ideas or arrogantly lording his special calling over those he is writing to.

Instead, we see him trying his best to tackle the near insurmountable task of ministering to the vast Roman world without bitterness or (much) complaint. Much of his work went thankless and without the honor due it. The question, of course, is how did Paul do it? How could he hold that much power over so many people and not turn the infant Church into the Paul of Tarsus show?

I think the answer lies in the motivation behind his actions. Paul did not minister to all those people for himself. If he was then he would probably have given up after the first time he was stoned (by an angry mob, not marijuana) if not way before. He wasn't doing it for the people. If you consider how screamingly idiotic the Corinthians must have been, he probably would have thrown his hands in the air and retired.

No, Paul was doing it for the Lord. Which is great; but why? Paul gives his answer in his first letter to Timothy (1:13, 14), a young pastor in Ephesus who was undoubtably struggling with this very issue.
Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignorance and unbelief. The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly, along with the faith and love that are in Christ Jesus.

Paul's point here is that no one on earth could treat him as badly as he once treated Christ, but Christ died for his sins anyway (a public service for us all). Thus, since we first treated Christ with such contempt, it is fitting for us to sacrificially serve others as He sacrificially served us.

True leadership is found through sacrificial service, not power plays and aggression. Even if you aren't a pastor in a church, you still have the choice of lording your authority over others, or sacrificially serving them.

May it be not so with you.






Thursday, February 18, 2010

Season of Despair

An unequivocal feature of the human condition is an obscene fear of failure. There are many forms of failure: there is the failure of not fulfilling a promise, the failure of losing a competition, the failure to complete a task. There are a whole lot of ways to fail. But, to my mind, the most biting is the failure attached to religious obligation and expectation.

I failed to tithe. I failed to pray today. I failed resisting sin. The list goes on and on. One of the reasons the Bible is so splendid is that it records, often in excruciating detail, the failures of a great many people. It starts in the beginning (obviously) with Adam and Eve's goof in the garden, and goes through the doubts of Abraham, Moses' blatant defiance in the desert, David's tryst with Bathsheba, and all the others.

Then we come to the Gospels. As the end of His time on earth was drawing near, Jesus went to the Garden of Gethsemane with His disciples. Once there, He takes His inner circle, Peter, James, and John, and withdraws under the dark olive trees to pray. He tells the trio to remain alert (since Jesus knew that the Temple posse was a-comin') and to pray. Jesus leaves them, prays in utter anguish for a few minutes, and returns to His most trusted friends, to find them asleep! Twice!

Presumably, these three disciples more than the other nine would have noticed the tendency of Herod, the priesthood, normal people, and really just about everybody, to attempt to arrest/kill Jesus for most of His public ministry. One would think they would understand that when Jesus says watch, you watch.

If nothing else, these guys were on the edge of their seats constantly, expecting Jesus to suddenly blast the Romans into the Mediterranean and establish God's Kingdom on earth. Just a few days previously, Jesus was paraded into the city as a conquering monarch. The entire city of Jerusalem was expecting fireworks.

But here we have the disciples - the poor, bumbling, human disciples - dosing off when their friend and Lord needed them most. They failed big time.

More times than I would like to admit, I've failed the Lord big time. Some things aren't that big, like when I refuse to talk to that student sitting across from me at the cafe, despite the Holy Spirit nagging me to do so. But a lot of things are pretty big; sin habits going unchallenged, disciplines going unpracticed.

And when I sin, especially when I do it consciously, I am overcome with a searing sense of failure. God has placed the target far away, and try as I might, I just can't hit the mark. What is Jesus' reaction to such failures? Let's turn back to the gospel account.

And He came to the disciples and found them sleeping. And He said to Peter, "So, you could not watch with me one hour?"

First comes the rebuke. I can imagine the disappointment in Jesus' voice, one of His best friends having failed him.

"Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak." Again, for the second time, He went away and prayed.

After the rebuke comes instructions, and then Jesus says something interesting: almost giving the disciples an excuse. "It's ok that you failed, I know you're trying, but you're only human."

Largely, Jesus reacts the same way with us and our failures. He's at first disappointed, but then reminds us of the task He's set us to, and then reminds us of His grace. Failure is inevitable, and so is God's response: "Keep on keeping on, kid. And don't worry, I've got you covered."

Once you were alienated from God and were enemies in your minds because of your evil behavior. But now He has reconciled you by Christ's physical body through death to present you holy in His sight, without blemish and free from accusation...
Colossians 1:21, 22



Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Dark Places

Our world is a beautiful and a dreadful place. Her beauty is expressed through waterfalls and bumblebees and cumulus clouds and other natural things. But her dread is largely a human component. Murder, strife, warfare, deprivation. Our civilization is one that seems to teeter on the edge of destruction all the time, and no longer from acts of nature but from ourselves.

But today we are going to ignore all that and instead focus on the dark places of the human soul. Consider man: within him are the most noble dreams... and the most horrible nightmares. Once upon a time, all we were capable of was good. But our forebears, standing in that primeval garden, made a certain choice. And that choice led to death for us all.

But what is choice? A choice, in its purest form, would be a decision between at least two things; a decision removed from coercion, manipulation, or force. A free decision. Because if it is not free, then it's not really a choice, is it?

Thus: life in a fallen world. God, in His love, has extended His grace to us. In return, we must abandon all else and pursue Him and His way. But, as we have discussed before, human beings are very easily distracted. There are many things besides God that look inviting and promise satisfaction.

And so we choose, in full sight of God and in complete knowledge of our actions, the wrong things. We soon find, however, that our freedom to choose is not inviolable. Sin is much like a boa constrictor, in that you can at first drape it over your shoulders because it is fun, or thrilling, or impressive. But it soon becomes evident to you that the boa constrictor isn't going anywhere. In fact, the more you struggle against it the more it constricts until the life is all but squeezed out of you.

The phrase, "a slave to sin", takes on a new meaning. Sin is not something you can dabble in or just try out. It will, slowly but surely, rob you of the ability to choose, until the only option on the table is to plunge deeper into sin.

Who then can be saved? One of the most vital doctrines of Christianity is the Indwelling of the Holy Spirit. God, in all His grandeur and majesty, has chosen us, His church, as living temples for His Spirit. Why? Because no one can make it on their own. Thanks to our dear friend John Calvin, this idea is known as the total depravity of mankind.

In my life, without the gracious restraint of the Holy Spirit, all of my thoughts and actions would only be evil, continually. As my sins and iniquities pile up and threaten to crush me, it is Jesus who descends into that hell alongside me and turns my face back up to the light.

And then I have a choice.

I can choose to grasp His hand and get pulled up out of the pit, or I can continue to dig it deeper.

There is not a righteous man on earth who does what is right and never sins.
Ecclesiastes 7:20


For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I wish to do; no, the evil I do not want to do - this I keep on doing.
Romans 7:18,19

Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens. Our God is a God who saves, from the Sovereign Lord comes escape from death!
Psalm 68:19,20












Wednesday, February 10, 2010

I Can See Clearly Now

Once upon a time, on a grassy hilltop in a land far away, a ragged and unkempt rabbi turned to the milling crowds sitting on the hillside around him and began to deliver the Sermon on the Mount. He began with a short, lyrical list of proverbs that somewhere down the twisty and dangerous road of Church history came to be known as the Beatitudes.

The sixth one has always intrigued me: "Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God." What did Jesus mean? They shall see God? What does purity have to do with it?

I am beginning to understand the answer. We find it a few miles away from the calm rabbi on the hilltop, surrounded by hurting people, hateful Pharisees, and confused disciples. Here is Jerusalem, and at its northern end we see the glimmering Temple built by Herod the Great, a world renowned religious site, and destination for thousands of curious and fervent pilgrims from all over the busy Roman world.

In the ancient scrolls containing the laws of the Jews as brought down the mountain by Moses, we see enshrined in Leviticus an intricate and all-encompassing code of rules and guidelines. For what? Purity. Why do the Israelites need to be pure? And there we have our answer.

Imagine, if you will, God. Yes, I know it's hard, but try. There is light: radiant, unapproachable light. There is sound: deep, harmonious sound like the growl of a black hole. Swirling colors, rushing winds, the fragrance of pulverized rock. But over the sensory overload there pulses something thats shakes our bones and makes our eyes water; something both magnificent and terrifying to behold: complete otherness. This is a being who is infinitely as different and separated from everything else as the farthest edge of the universe. Pure; sublime. Both the embodiment of the Law and its sworn enforcer.

In calm discussions far away from the power and glory we refer to this otherness as the Holiness of God. The idea of His holiness also includes His impeccability (complete inability to sin), and His total righteousness and intolerance of sin. Originally, He made humans to be sinless and pure in His sight.

We all know how that went.

God is holy. People, decidedly, are not. Saint John, beloved friend of Jesus and apostle of the Church, tells us in his first epistle that God is love. But we also know that God is justice. For awhile after Adam and Eve's goof, there was nothing to shield mankind from the divine justice emanating from the supreme Holiness of God. Until God, in love, stepped forward with a contingency plan.

The poor Hebrews were made abundantly and immediately aware of His holiness and their abject depravity as they watched, terrified, the summit of Mount Sinai being consumed with fire, light, smoke, and thunder as Almighty God descended to speak with Moses.

The results of this discussion were the Ten Commandments and the aforementioned religious obligations of the Hebrew nation embodied in Leviticus. God, despite His grandeur and transcendence, would make His home in a pretty tent at the center of the Israelite camp.

But, in order for Him to stay, and to pour out His blessings and gifts on the Israelites, they would have to uphold their purity, both as individuals and as a nation. In calm discussions far away from ancient life we refer to this as the Old Covenant. And the central, abiding, overriding, paramount component of that covenant was fidelity to Him as their one and only God.

But as soon as God turned His back, figuratively speaking, the idols and false gods began to creep in. Baal, Asherah, Moloch, Dagon, Marduk. And slowly but surely the false gods of the stars, the sun, and the moon choked out the glory those heavens were trying to proclaim. The end results were catastrophic for the Jews.

For you, dear reader, it may seem that the likes of Baal, Asherah, or Moloch are no longer distracting you from God. Ah, but you see, Satan (that ancient serpent) is still cleverly selling you the same old products in shiny new packages. Money, excellence, sex, beauty, power: all are at their root the pantheon of old. And make no mistake, all are idols that we whore ourselves after.

In the shrine atop the high place in my soul you find an idol of Intelligence. Next to it sits the altar where I sacrifice things to gain Respect From Others. In a prominent place reposes the false god called Religion. Above it all hangs an ever-burning lamp that symbolizes my devotion to Selfish Will. I am certain you have a similar place in your heart.

Idols clutter our sight and wreck our purity. The words of Jesus ring true. Why are the pure in heart blessed? Because they are the ones who can see God. There are no distractions, no clutter, no idols.

As the old hymn goes, create in me a pure heart, O God.






Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Scum

Persecution is an intriguing concept. Christianity is perhaps unique for the high value and esteem it places on those members who suffer and die due to persecution. And not as violent martyrs, but as sheep led to the slaughter. Christ is the perfect example in this, as He is in all things.

He withstood violence and cruelty, for the most part in silence. He did not denounce the priests that spit on him and mocked him, did not curse Pilate or Herod for turning Him over to satisfy a bloodthirsty crowd. As He hung on the cross, He did not call down heavenly fire to annihilate those around Him, but asked for their forgiveness.

This model was followed by thousands of Christians after him, calmly facing down the powers of darkness as their earthly bodies were destroyed.

What are we to make of this, sitting here in the United States in our safety and our comfort?

Now, I am not advocating for you to go and have yourself killed by some foreign regime, but think for a moment. How does this idea of persecution, of becoming the scum of the earth, translate into our lives today?

I think that we as American Christians face a similar set of challenges as many did 2,000 years ago. Roman authors that were contemporaries of the early Church considered Christians to be a bunch of worthless idiots. They threw their lives away to follow after a dead man from Nowhere, Judea.

Jesus, while on earth, spoke of His followers' having to bear their crosses to follow Him. What did He mean? That we should learn to cope with the little griefs and disappointments that invariably flare up on the Christian walk? No.

He was talking about loss of life. The cross was a tool of capital punishment, the single most gruesome method that humanity has so far come up with. It was an excruciating death, a humiliating death. It was reserved for the most radical and dangerous criminals.

The cross did not and does not symbolize paltry obstructions on the path of life. It symbolizes a complete departure from that path. I am becoming increasingly convinced that what Jesus was talking about was a total relinquishing of my own ambitions and desires to pursue whatever task He sets me to. Period.

What kind of reaction does living a radical Christ life engender from the world? Persecution. Whether its disdainful looks for sitting with the lonely weird kid in the dining hall or getting fined for illegally feeding the homeless. There is no rule that states that a true Christian life brings persecution, but I think that if you never come up against it in your walk with the Lord, you may want to take a closer look at yourself and see how much you actually look like Jesus.

Paul, when confronted with the irresistible reality of God as revealed in Christ, abandoned everything he knew: his status as a learned Pharisee, his religion, the respect and admiration of his peers. He cast it all aside in his pursuit of Christ.

What are you willing to cast aside? Jesus does not ask the same sacrifices from everyone. For Paul, it was everything. Examine your life. What prevents you from taking up your cross and the radical, sacrificial life that it represents? Cast those things aside, my friends.

" Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves his son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will find it." Matthew 10:37-39

"If anyone else thinks he has reasons to put confidence in the flesh, I have more: circumcised on the eighth day, of the people of Israel, of the tribe of Benjamin, a Hebrew of Hebrews; in regard to the law, a Pharisee; as for zeal, persecuting the church; as for legalistic righteousness, faultless. But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ..." Philippians 3:4-8





Monday, February 1, 2010

The Gospel

So then, our ultimate calling is to preach the gospel to all the world. But what is the gospel, exactly?

In its most dressed-down form, the gospel is that Jesus Christ, the unique Son of God, has died to redeem the whole world and has resurrected to bring us all into eternal life. Christians know this, hopefully, backwards and forwards. But sometimes we get sidetracked from the gospel and detour into other things.

Oftentimes, it is easy for us to think of salvation, redemption, and sanctification in selfish, self-centered frames of mind. Jesus is saving me, is redeeming me, is sanctifying me. And yes, He is. But I am convinced there is a larger picture that we miss when we think in this way.

I think it more true to reality to say that Jesus is saving us, redeeming us, and sanctifying us. Us, not me. The Body, not the individual. It is important for us to make the distinction partly because of our pre-conditioned individualistic way of thinking that comes from living in America, but mostly because the Church was designed by God to be Christ's body. You can experience Christ by yourself, and you should. But we cannot experience the total Jesus experience, if you will, without fellowship and interaction with our fellow believers.

This is part of the beauty of the Church. The "buddy Jesus" idea has been promoted to such an extent in the western world that we easily lose sight of the Church and the community she represents. Absolutely, Jesus loves you as an individual, knows the number of hairs on your head, etc. But He did not die to save you, He died to save everyone who believes.

I am not denigrating personal relationships with God, I'm saying that the proposition of salvation is a corporate proposition, not an individual one. In terms of the gospel, Jesus died to save everyone who will believe in Him, which can include you.

Therefore, brother and sisters, cherish your one on one time with the Lord. But also cherish your corporate time with the Lord, perhaps even more than the personal.

At the end of history, when we all live together with God, we will all be living together. We don't get little personal heavens. We're a collective, the perfection of the Church. Our experience of God will be as one Body, one pristine Bride of Christ.