Today's Scripture focus: Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7 I can still hear their voices even today: "You can be anything you want to be when you grow up. The sky is the limit." Maybe it was a school teacher, parent, or well-meaning aunt, but I believed them. I knew that I really could be an astronaut one day (my brother and I stopped counting on the 36th time we watched the movie, Space Camp, growing up). I really could be that member of the police S.W.A.T. team that busted down doors and arrested the bad guys (we would practice kicking in the door to the clubhouse in our backyard). I really could be the firefighter that climbed up the ladder to the fifth floor window and rescued the girl that was choking on the smoke billowing out from the tiny opening (we did get in trouble for climbing on the roof on numerous occasions). As I grew up, I found that there was a catch, though. My eyesight is not so good and you can't be a pilot, much less an astronaut, with poor eyes. I'm not a big fan of guns (though I do know how to use one), which is not so good for the police officer charged with carrying high powered ammunition. I'm not a big fan of heights (sometimes my knees shake), which could pose a serious problem if I had any real aspirations of climbing up tall ladders to save people and fight fires. You see, in all this thinking about what I wanted to be, I hadn't yet grasped the idea of who God had created me to be. When you get right down to it, I can't be "anything I want to be" because I've not been created to do just anything. I have been created for a unique purpose. The church mothers and fathers referred to this as vocation. In our modern terminology, we think about vocation in terms of what we do for a living, but this is not what they meant in using this term. The term vocation comes from the Latin term vocare, meaning "to call." By vocation, they meant who God had created/called you to be - what unique gifts, abilities, and inclinations you possess. You may very well use your vocation to make a living, but you may not. You may be an artist who puts food on the table by working in a bank. You may be a musician that pays bills by waiting tables. You may be a writer, a carpenter, a dancer, or a golfer, but you earn a living by some other means. They also thought of this idea of vocation in terms of our spiritual calling as well. Some people had a vocation to join a religious order and to commit their lives to God as a monk or nun. Adam had a vocation. "The LORD God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to work it and keep it" (Genesis 2:15). Adam's vocation was to care for the garden in which God had placed him and to live in relationship with God and the other people God had created (namely Eve). He was to care for a creation that he had not made - to be a steward of this gift he received from God. There is great freedom that comes with this vocation as well. God tells Adam, "You may surely eat of every tree of the garden," (Genesis 2:16). You can enjoy, feast, run and play. There is but one limit, however. There is one tree that you must not eat of, one rule that you must follow, one command you must obey. What do you mean one tree - I thought I could eat from ay tree? What do you mean that my eyes aren't good enough to be an astronaut? What do you mean that my scores aren't good enough to get into medical school? What do you mean that I'm not strong enough or fast enough to pass the physical examination? I can be anything that I want to be! I can do anything I want to do! I live in the United States of America - the land of the free, the home of the brave. What do you mean that there are rules that I still have to follow? I thought that Jesus came to set me free, that he came to give me abundant life - what do you mean that I have to follow these laws? The temptation of the serpent is to question the vocation of our first parents, to question God's command, to question God's goodness (God is just holding out on you). We hear the serpent's subtle voice time and again, "Did God really say...?" In our society, we have elevated this idea of freedom and choice to idolatrous levels. I get to decide what I want to do. I get to decide what is best for me. I get to decide what is right and what is wrong. I, I, I. Me, Me, Me. It's at the very center of Adam and Eve's temptation and it's at the heart of all our subsequent temptations (you will be like God). It's at the very heart of this season of Lent - dying to self and coming alive to the one who created us, who gifted us, and who called us. By surrendering the freedom to choose any life and embracing God's life for us, we just may find the real freedom our souls so richly desire. Prayer: God, You created me. You know me. You have given me gifts and abilities. You have called me and given me a vocation. Help me to discover that call and find the freedom of living it out. Keep me from the temptation to make freedom an idol in my life and to find my satisfaction in You alone. Amen.
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Today's Scripture focus: Luke 4:1-13 I've always had a hard time trying to imagine Jesus really, truly, being tempted. Maybe it stems from my childhood and the emphasis on the perfection of Jesus. Maybe it was the fact that I really enjoyed stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table as a kid. I had this mental image of Jesus as a knight doning the "Armor of God" and the wimpy little darts of the enemy bouncing off him like toys. This Jesus wouldn't really be tempted. It may have looked like he was, but there was no way that any of those puny little darts threatened Sir Jesus the Perfect. Things got a little more complicated for me as I got to know the Bible a little better. In seeking to battle my own temptations, I remember memorizing this verse from the book of James: "Each person is tempted when he is lured away and enticed by his own desire." (James 1:14). And then there's this verse in Hebrews that goes a little further in describing Jesus' temptation: "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin." (Hebrews 4:15) By implication, then, are we to deduct that since Jesus was tempted in every respect and that true temptation comes from our own sinful desires, that Jesus had sinful desires? Is there a chink in your armor Sir Jesus? As I read today's passage, I am not really bothered too much by these questions (though they may interested to ponder). Instead, I am struck by the manner in which the enemy comes to attack Jesus. One of the many depictions of Jesus in movies is a CBS mini-series called Jesus, starring Jeremy Sisto (a strange choice, in my opinion). While the film-makers definitely took some artistic license depiction of of the temptation, I think they got at the theological meaning of the temptation pretty well. (You can see it on youtube here. Fast forward to 8:50 for the beginning of this scene.) In it, the tempter appears to Jesus first as a beautiful woman, then as a well-dressed, distinguished man (a little bit the stereotypical slick, used car salesmen, but a good looking guy nonetheless). The tempter first appeals to Jesus' human limitations. He is hungry. His body needs nourishment. He could turn stones to bread. When that doesn't work, he shows Jesus the multitude of hungry people in the world. If he won't turn the stones to bread for himself, maybe he will for those people. The temptation is this - perform a little miracle Jesus. Feed them with your miraculous powers. You can meet all their needs. The second temptation is this - Jesus you just need a better public relations team, some more effective and strategic marketing. The people aren't going to listen to you because you have no credibility, no platform. Throw yourself down from the top of the temple. Let God send angels to put on a little show of your power. Then, they would listen to you. Then you would have a platform. They'd be eating out of the palm of your hand, Jesus. The third one is the real test. "I could give it all to you, Jesus. Power. Authority. Control. A kingdom. That's who you are, right? The king of Kings. Bow down to me and I'll give it all to you. I'll help you live up to your calling and be the man you were created to be." In essence, the temptations boil down to this: "Jesus, I'll give you exactly what you want - food to feed the hungry, people that will listen and follow your every word, a world where you will reign as king and lord. And guess what . . . you don't even need that whole cross thing to accomplish it." Yes, this is the temptation for Jesus - the temptation of fulfilling his mission by shortcutting around the cross. This is our temptation as well. Jesus calls us to take up our cross and follow after him daily. For those that do, Jesus promises new and abundant life; rest for the weary; healing for the mind, body, and soul. The temptation, however, is to pursue those things apart from the cross, apart from the provision of God in Jesus. The temptation is to look for them in the ways of this world, in the things of this world. But that is exactly what it is - a temptation, following our our own desire above God's desire. Let us remember those accompanying words from the book of James, "Blessed is the one who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him." (James 1:12) Prayer: God, I acknowledge my temptation to take hold of your promise in y way, according to the way of the world. Help me to follow Jesus to the cross so that I may receive your reward in your way and your time. As I follow you into the wilderness, I call on your Spirit to strengthen me as your Spirit strengthened Christ. Amen. Today's Scripture focus: Mark 1:9-13 One of the great spiritual highs I have as a pastor is the privilege of baptism. It is such a powerful picture of our identification and connection with Jesus - going beneath the water to die to our old self and being raised up again to new life. It is so awesome to be able to lead people through this initiation into a community of people who are seeking to model their lives after Jesus of Nazareth. Sometimes during baptisms, I'm pretty sure that I can catch a glimpse of the heavens parting and the Spirit of God descending on those baptismal waters like a dove. I sometimes think that I can hear echoes of those words Jesus heard at his baptism, "You are my beloved child, with you I am well pleased." The baptism of Jesus was surely a high point of his thirty or so years on earth. It was a confirmation of what the angel had told his mother those many years ago: "And behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus. He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High. And the Lord God will give to him the throne of his father David, and he will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end." (Luke 1:31-33 ESV) It was a confirmation of his identity, his uniqueness, his calling. Very quickly, however, we find that the Spirit has descended on him for another reason as well - to strengthen him for a time of temptation. Today's scripture says, "The Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness." Now, I have to admit that there are a number of things about this one sentence that give me pause. First, it says that this happened immediately following Jesus' baptism. Was there no celebration? No time to bask for a moment in his sonship? No time to just hang out on this spiritual mountaintop? I know that when I baptize someone, I encourage them to make a big deal about - to throw a party, to take it in slowly and savor. It's as if Mark is saying, Jesus didn't come to hang out on the mountaintop, but he came for the wilderness. That brings to the second thing. There is something about the wilderness in scripture. Moses fled Egypt after killing an Egyptian man and went out into the wilderness area. It was here that he met God in the burning bush. The Israelites wandered in the wilderness for forty before entering the promised land because of their disobedience, but God cares for them and provides for their needs. Elijah meets God in a cave in the wilderness. It's as though the writers of scripture are trying to tell us something - while there may be times that we meet God in the safety and comfort of the city, more often than not, we are going to truly have a life-changing encounter with this wild, untamable God in the wilderness areas of our lives. This wilderness can take many forms - the wilderness of sin and temptation, the wilderness of loneliness and isolation, the wilderness of sickness, the wilderness of losing a job, the wilderness of a broken relationship, the wilderness of depression, the wilderness of addiction - the list could go on and on. The point is, whatever wilderness we find ourselves in, we should look around, listen closely, and pay attention because God may be trying to do something awesome in us through that experience. Finally, I am struck that it says that "the Spirit . . . drove him out" into the desert. It's the same language that we find in Mark 11:15 where Jesus "entered the temple and began to drive out those who sold and bought in the temple." It seems, in a way, so violent - the Spirit driving Jesus away from this experience of love and affirmation, this spiritual high place. What does it mean that the Spirit would drive Jesus out into the wilderness to face temptation? I mean, seriously, didn't Jesus himself teach us to pray, "lead us not into the temptation, but deliver us from evil?" Even if the Spirit is not the one directly tempting Jesus, this sure seems like the Spirit is at least leading him to a place where he will be tempted. I can't help but think of the words of the Apostle Paul to the believers in Rome when he wrote, "suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." (Romans 5:3-5 ESV) I have to believe that, while the baptism of Jesus affirmed his identity, the temptation of Jesus solidified his character. It allowed Jesus to stare his humanity in the face, to see the enemy, and to win the victory, paving the way for us to follow. I need to be reminded often that temptation is not a sin. Temptation is an opportunity to stand with Jesus in looking at my humanity, looking at our enemy, and surrendering to the power of Christ to overcome sin on my behalf. Prayer: God, thank you for the wilderness areas of my life. Thank you for the times when all the excess stuff and distractions are stripped away, and I can honestly see my great need for you. As I face temptation on this lenten journey, let me throw myself on you and feel your victory coursing through my life. Amen. Today's focal passage: Matthew 4:1-11 Let me begin by saying, "I don't like to fast." I don't like the feeling of being hungry. I get irritable. I get short-tempered. I sometimes get headaches (though, admittedly, this may have more to do with a caffeine addiction than going without food). My wife doesn't really like it when I fast, either (for all of the above reasons). She often becomes the recipient of my irritability. I guess that shouldn't surprise me, though. Isn't that what we do? Isn't that one of the real temptations of Lent? We want to focus on anything but our own failures, our own short-comings, our own addictions and attachments in this world. We want to put the spotlight on someone else. I'll speak for myself, though. Through fasting from food, I come face-to-face with my own struggles in this area. I don't want to deal with my own unhealthy relationship to food, so I take out my guilt and shame on those closest to me. I don't want to be confronted with my true self, so I deflect my shame, guilt, anger, etc. onto someone else. The problem is - this is what Lent is all about. It is about holding up the mirror and getting a good look at ourselves, then casting all of that at the foot of the cross of Jesus. There is a historic connection between the forty days of Lent and the forty days that Jesus spent in the wilderness, being tempted by the devil. As we begin this journey together, I am struck by the fact that the first temptation Jesus faces hits at such a basic level. We all need food to survive. In the book of Genesis, God looked at all that was created in the Garden of Eden (including food) and pronounced it good. Going without this basic necessity causes our body to scream out in protest, "But I need food to survive!" While this is true, there is little danger that my body is going to have serious adverse affects from a little fasting. What it really gets at is much more telling - what is my relationship to food? Obviously, I eat to fulfill my biological needs for nutrients that fuel my body. But it's more than that. I eat because I enjoy the taste of food. I eat because of the psychological effect it has on me (can anyone say "comfort food"). I eat because I'm bored sometimes. I eat because it's the socially acceptable behavior in certain circumstances. Yes, food can be good, but food can be an idol. While the cravings I feel are, in part, my body telling me that it needs nourishment, it is also my spirit saying, "Don't take away my god!" (god, not God). It is my self-indulgent spirit saying "gimme, gimme, gimme." It is also a reminder of how blessed I am. I can go the cabinet, pull out an evening snack, and the hardest choice I'll have to make is "which one?" It is hard for me wrap my head around what it is like for Tayson, the child we sponsor in Zambia, on a daily basis. I don't know what it is like to not have adequate resources of daily food and water. It is difficult for me to imagine what it is like to look into my children's eyes as they beg me for food, knowing that I have none to give them. And yet, this is the reality for many of fellow brothers and sisters around the globe. So, I'll say it again, "I don't like to fast . . . but I need to fast." I need to hear Jesus speak into my life, "Man does not live on bread alone" to remind me about my sometimes idolatrous relationship with food. But I also need to hear Jesus say, "I was hungry, and you gave me something to eat" to remind me about my relationship with others in the world who aren't nearly as fortunate as I am. May this Lent be a time for us all to take a long, hard look at our relationship with food. -Steven As I completed my sermon this past sunday on a disturbing passage from the Christmas story (the "slaughter of the innocents") I realized that this very interesting poem from Madeleine L'Engle was going to have to be cut as it did not fit the direction I was going. This upset me, because I found this to be a very compelling imagining of what might have happened with those children and how they fit into the overall story of Jesus. Therefore, I share it here. It is a lengthy poem, so if you would prefer to listen to me read it, you may click the audio player below and follow along. ...And The Old Man Became As A Little Child...
by Madeleine L’Engle He could not sleep. The tomb was dark, and the stone heavy that sealed it. He could not sleep for all the innocent blood he had shed. He was an old man. Too old for tears. Not yet young enough for sleep. He waited and watched. Thrice he had spoken to him whose body had been sealed within the tomb, thrice had the old man spoken, he who was a disciple, but not one of the twelve, older, gentler in all ways, and tired, word with time and experience and the shedding of blood. He came from Capernaum and after that his son who touched the edge of death was drawn back from the pit and made whole, the old man returned to Jesus and said, :O thou, who hast today been the consolation of my household, wast also its desolation. Because of you my first-born died in that great shedding of innocent blood. Nevertheless, I believe though I know not what or how or why for it has not been revealed to me. I only know that one manchild was slain and one made to live.” And a second time he spoke when the Lord kept the children beside him and suffered them not to be taken away: “These are the ones that are left us, but where, Lord, is the Kingdom of Heaven? Where, Lord, are the others? What of them? What of them?” And he wept. And a third time he spoke when the Lord turned to Jerusalem and laughter turned to steel and he moved gravely towards the hour that was prepared and the bitterness of the cup: then the old man said: “All your years you have lived under the burden of their blood. Their life was the price of yours. Have you borne the knowledge and the cost? During those times when you have gone silent in the midst of laughter have you remembered all the innocence slaughtered that you might be with us now? When you have gone up into the mountains apart to pray, have you remembered that their lives were cut down for your life, and so ours? Rachel’s screams shatter the silence and I cannot sleep at night for remembering. Do you ever forget your children that sleep? When will you bring them out of the sides of the earth and show mercy unto them? Who will embrace them until you come? I cannot sleep. But because I have already tasted of the cup I cannot turn from you now. I, who live, praise you. Can those who have gone before you into the pit celebrate you or hope for your truth? Tell me, tell me, for I am an old man and lost in the dark cloud of my ignorance. Nevertheless, blessed is he whom thou hast chosen and taken, O Lord.” He did not speak again. But he was there when the rocks were rent the veil of the temple torn in twain the sun blackened by clouds the earth quaked with darkness the sky was white and utterly empty. The city gaped with loss. Then, out of the silence, the Lord went bearing the marks of nails and spear moving swiftly through the darkness into the yawning night of the pit. There he sought first not as one might have supposed for Moses or Elias but for the children who had been waiting for him. So, seeking, he was met by the three Holy Children the Young Men burning bright transforming the fire into dew as they cried: “Blessed art thou, O Lord God, forevermore.” And all the children came running and offering to him their blood and singing: “With sevenfold heat did the Chaldean tyrant in his rage cause the furnace to be heated for the Godly Ones who wiped our blood like tears when we were thrust here lost and unknowing. The Holy Three waited here to receive us and to teach us to sing your coming forasmuch as thou art pitiful and lovest mankind.” So they held his hand and gave him their kisses and their blood and, laughing, led him by the dragon who could not bear their innocence and thrashed with his tail so that the pit trembled with his rage. But even his roaring could not drown their song: “For unto Thee are due all glory, honor, and worship, with the Father and Holy Spirit, now, and ever, and unto ages of ages, Amen.” And the holy children were round about him, the Holy Innocents and the Holy Three. They walked through the darkness of the fiery furnace and the dragon could see their brightness, yea, he saw four walkers loose walking in the midst of the fire and having no hurt and the form of the fourth was like the Son of God. And he saw the Son of God move through hell and he heard the Holy Children sing: “Meet is it that we should magnify thee, the life-giver who has stretched out they hands upon the cross and hast shattered the dominion of the enemy. Blessed art thou, O Lord God, forevermore. O Jesus, God and Saviour, who didst take upon thee Adam’s sin and didst taste of death (the cup was bitter), thou hast come again to Adam O compassionate One for thou only art good and lovest mankind, Blessed art thou, O Lord God forevermore.” So hell was shriven while the holy children, singing, transformed the flames to dew, and the gates of Heaven opened. Then, by the empty tomb,the old man slept. Let us begin to be devoted to Him in good earnest. Let us cast everything besides out of our hearts; He would possess them alone.
(-Br. Lawrence) I can't help but read this passage and think of the Danish Philosopher Soren Kierkegaard. In one of his influential books on the spiritual life, he talks about this undivided heart, committed to God. Without going into too much detail about the book, the name will suffice to make my point. The title of the book is, "Purity of Heart is to Will One Thing." Too often, we think of purity in the form of cleanliness or chastity or freedom from guilt, but it is so much more than that. Think of pure gold or silver. All of the impurities and contaminants have been removed. Think of a pure gem that is almost completely transparent and flawless. Think of water that has been completely purified for drinking. All of these tie in to what Kierkegaard is saying. A pure heart is one that has no contaminant, no guilt, no flaw, is completely transparent for all to see. A completely pure heart is to will one thing - God. to desire God, to desire God's will, to bring God pleasure, to follow God, to love God. Purity is to allow all other things that might pollute our devotion to be removed - refined, filtered, boiled, washed. It is to remove ALL idols from our lives - anything that might threaten to divert our attention from God. This should always be our goal. I hope that reading through this book has been helpful for you. I know that it has been for me and I look forward to how Goid is go Let us not amuse ourselves to seek or to love GOD for any sensible favors (however elevated) which He has or may do us. (-Br. Lawrence) When I read this, I couldn't help but thinking of a writing from Bernard of Clairvaux. Now, I must admit that it is not exactly what Br. Lawrence is talking about, but hey this is my blog post and my stream of consciousness, so I'm going to go in that direction anyway. Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153) was a member of the Cistercian Order of monks in France. He was responsible for many of the reforms that allowed the Cistercians to survive throughout the years. Born to French nobility, Bernard entered the monastic life following his mother's death, at the age of 23. Given the title "The Doctor of the Church," he was known for his eloquence and his writings still remain very influential today. One such writing is a treatise entitled, "On Love." In this, Bernard lays out what he calls "four degrees of love" that correspond pretty closely with Br. Lawrence. They are as follows: 1. When man loves himself for his own sake 2. When man loves God for his (man's) own good 3. When man loves God for God's own sake 4. When man loves himself for the sake of God Bernard felt that this last stage of life could not be reached prior to the resurrection. Trapped within our mortal bodies, we could not achieve a pure love for self for the sake of God. Therefore, the highest level we could achieve on this earth is to love God for God's sake. In other words, we should not love only ourselves (the selfishness of the first degree), or for the blessings God gives us (the second degree), but we love God for God. We desire God's will alone. We desire nothing more than to know him. We become completely enraptured just by God's existence. We devote our whole lives to seeking this God and arrange our lives so that nothing else gets in the way of this pursuit. This is what I want for my life, but I'm not there yet. I find myself too often in the selfishness of the first and second degrees. Oh god, purify my love for you, that I may desire you and you alone. If I were never to receive another blessing, another answered prayer, another gift, another comfort or consolation, you would still be worthy of my praise. Make my life a prayer. Amen. As we come to the end of Br. Lawrence's little book, I am struck by the many things that resonate with this last letter. they are too much for one blog post, so I will flesh them out over the next couple of days as we wrap this up.
Let all our employment be to know GOD: the more one knows Him, the more one desires to know Him. (-Br. Lawrence) When I read this, I can't help but think of the idea of finding one's vocation. One of the best books I've read on vocation comes from a Quaker by the name of Parker Palmer. In his little book, Let Your Life Speak: Listening for the Voice of Vocation, he says the following: "Vocation does not come from willfulness. It comes from listening. I must listen to my life and try to understand what it is truly about - quite apart from what I would like for it to be about - or my life will never represent anything real in the world, no matter how earnest my intentions. "That insight is hidden in the word vocation itself, which is rooted in the Latin for "voice." Vocation does not mean a goal that I pursue. It means a calling that I hear. Before I can tell my life what I want to do with it, I must listen to my life telling me who I am. I must listen for the truths and values at the heart of my own identity, not the standards by which I must live - but the standards by which I cannot help but live if I am living my own life." (p.4-5) If we were to combine these two thoughts, we would see that Br. Lawrence is calling us to make our vocation to know God. Drawing on Palmer, we might understand that to mean that since God creates us, only God can truly tell us who we are and who God is. Let's push that a little further to say that, if our true vocation is to know God, our jobs are the fertile ground in which that knowledge grows. We learn who God is as we learn to live out our faith as nurses, teachers, small business owners, construction workers, pastors, etc. These may be how we make a living, but our true calling is to know God through these things - to allow God to shape us into the image of Christ in the midst of our jobs. As we interact with coworkers, customers, students, employees, neighbors, friends, and family, we are being sharpened "as iron sharpens iron" and have the opportunity to know God in the midst of our everyday activity. This is why Br. Lawrence can say that he is just as much in prayer washing pots and pans as he is kneeling before the altar. This is the goal of Practicing the Presence - constant communion with God, becoming more and more like Jesus, and letting Jesus live through our hands and feet - touching the world through us. . . . we must make our heart a spiritual temple, wherein to adore Him incessantly . . . (-Br. Lawrence)
In J.R.R. Tolkien’s masterpiece, The Lord of the Rings, he tells the story of one character’s journey of self-discovery and heroism to save all of Middle Earth from the evil that threatens to destroy it. Though told in many smaller stories, that is the big picture, or "meta-narrative" at work. (meta = "beyond" or "about" and narrative = "story"; metanarrative = story about a story) The Bible works in a somewhat similar manner. Though there are many small stories throughout, there is a larger metanarrative at work. In this letter, Br. Lawrence taps into one of these key metanarratives that we find woven throughout scripture. This story is God's search for a home. From the outset of Genesis, God creates a garden and populates it with plants, animals, and people. Then, God comes down to walk, talk, and live with his creation (until disobedience messes things up). After Adam and Eve are expelled, God chooses to make a covenant with Abram, a nomad who lives in tents and builds altars (a foreshadowing of the tent/tabernacle to come). There is a story about Abram's grandson, Jacob, a little later in scripture, where he goes to sleep and dreams of a ladder between heaven and earth with angels descending and ascending. He wakes up, realizes he’s been in the presence of God, and declares that this place is the "house of God." After Sinai, Moses takes God’s detailed commands and builds a tabernacle, or tent of meeting for the assembly of the people. Within this tent is the ark of covenant. This is the place where the presence of God will dwell. With the ark present, the people know that God is present - at home with them. After the people get to the promised land, the portable tent was no longer necessary. Consequently, two different permanent temples are built to house the ark and the worship of the Israelite people. Again, the temple represents the presence of God among the people. In Jesus, we are told that God came down and made his home among us. In Jesus, "the fullness of God was pleased to dwell" and we beheld God face to face (Colossians 1:15-20). After Jesus died, rose, and ascended back to heaven, the Holy Spirit was sent to dwell in the hearts of believers as a seal for the coming day when God would bring a new heaven and a new earth. This new earth consists of a new Jerusalem, the holy city, where all the people of God shall dwell. As Revelation (the final book of the Bible tells us) in this new Jerusalem, there will be no temple because God will dwell among the people. See, from beginning to end (from Genesis to Revelation), this has been God’s desire all along - to dwell with his people. Br. Lawrence is onto something here. Practicing the Presence means that we become aware that we live in the age of the Spirit, where God takes up residence in the lives of his people. “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit?” the Apostle Paul asks us (1 Corinthians 6:19). If we are the temple, we don’t have to go to a sacred space for worship (though that may be helpful). We don’t have to strike a certain pose for prayer (though it may be useful). We don’t have to say prescribed liturgies (though they may be guides). All we have to do is recognize the truth: God lives within you. So wake up, take notice, open the door of your heart, and welcome him home. (For a good book on the metanarratives found in scripture, see Frank Viola's book From Eternity to Here - not the same Frank Viola who used to pitch for the Twins) Love sweetens pains; and when one loves GOD, one suffers for His sake with joy and courage. (-Br. Lawrence)
O.K., Br. Lawrence, I've been with you up to this point, but today I can't accompany you to this conclusion. I understand what you are saying, sure. I preached on something very similar just this morning. But I'm convinced that love does not always sweeten pain. In fact, I am quite certain, love increases pain, deepens it, make its sting that much sharper and more bitter. Consider this: it is the ones we love that are able to hurt us the most. I am less hurt by the comments of people I don't know for the sheer fact that I don't know them - their opinions don't matter that much. For those that I love deeply, however, the pain I feel from them (or because of them) cuts to the very heart of who I am. As a case in point, take some of the survivors of the Holocaust. Elie Wiesel, survivor of the death camps at Auschwitz, has written very eloquently about how his love for God only served to intensify the pain because of God's apparent absence in the midst of his great suffering. (For an example of such writing, see Wiesel's "A Prayer for the Days of Awe.") When God seems to be absent in our suffering, the suffering deepens, not because we don't believe, but because we do in fact believe. The reality is often this: the more we believe, the more we love God, the greater the suffering. Unlike how you present it, Br. Lawrence, this is not always a black and white issue. There are times, as you say, that we can endure suffering because we feel (as Mary Stevenson's poem "Footprints In the Sand" suggests) that God is "carrying us." Yet, there are also times that God's seeming absence intensifies our suffering greatly. Sometimes suffering leads to joy. Sometimes not. I'm just asking that we be honest. Sincerely, -Steven What has been your experience? |
Ecclesia Writer's ConsortiumWe are blessed at Ecclesia to have a number of gifted writers and teachers. Here, you'll find devotions, meditations, and musings from a sample of those writers. Archives
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