Today's Scripture focus: Mark 8:31-38 I really enjoy architecture. I love it when really great buildings combine form and function in such a way that they are almost inseparable. I love when a building makes use of ample windows and ambient lighting. I like architecture with curves. I also really love church architecture (maybe it is an occupational hazard). So many of today’s churches are so boring and devoid of meaning. I mean, you walk into a lot of churches and you can’t really tell if you are in a church, a conference room at the public library, or a school auditorium (actually, with as many church plants as I know of in our area, you might actually be in a school auditorium or cafeteria). I love when architecture says something. I love when churches make use of symbols to tell the story of our faith in visual ways. Recently, we have been doing some renovations at our church. We have been painting walls, and redecorating. As we’ve done this, we’ve had to take things off the walls, spackle over numerous holes and nicks in the sheetrock, and make some hard decisions about color palates and paint schemes. Those that have been involved with that process have probably heard me say on more than one occasion: “We are not going to just randomly slap stuff back up on the wall. We need to be intentional about what we hang up and where.” This stems from a conviction that I have that most people will forget the majority of my Sunday sermon by the time the bill is paid at lunch. The way in which we order and decorate our worship space, however, will preach over and over again, Sunday after Sunday. We need to be clear about what we are trying to say. With that said, let me confess that in all my travels to various churches, I have been struck by some of the depictions of the cross of Jesus. There are big crosses, little crosses, shiny crosses, wooden crosses, flowery crosses, crosses with other symbols (like a flame or a dove), crosses with writing on them, and on and on. In catholic churches, you find a multitude of crucifixes with Jesus hanging on them - there’s the realistic Jesus, the stylized Jesus, the agonized Jesus, the pretty Jesus (who looks as if this whole cross thing is just an inconvenience). I think of all this as I come to today’s passage. In the story leading up to it, we get this famous dialogue between Jesus and Peter: Jesus: Who do people say that I am? Disciples: John the Baptist; and others say Elijah; one of the prophets Jesus: But who do you say that I am? Peter: You are the Christ. All of Mark’s Gospel has been leading up to this point. The first eight chapters of Mark are some of the most intense portrayals of Jesus in scripture. This is a no nonsense Jesus. There are no birth narratives here - no shepherds in the fields, angelic messengers, babies wrapped in swaddling clothes. There’s not even a genealogy. In Mark, Jesus hits the ground the running. In the first chapter alone, Jesus has been baptized, fought with Satan in the wilderness, called some disciples, healed a man with an unclean spirit, healed Simon’s mother-in-law, healed many in Capernaum, went all throughout Galilee casting out demons, and cleansed a leper. And this is just the first chapter! You’re darn right, Peter - he is the Christ! He’s the one we’ve been waiting for! He’s the one God has promised! So, when Jesus “turns a corner” in verse 31 of chapter eight, we aren’t really prepared. “And he began to teach them that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders and the chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise again.” Do what? Huh? Come again! Talk to my church planter friends - if you are going to draw a crowd, then dramatic healings, great storytelling, incredible miracles, and radical inclusion are a great way to start. This kind of Jesus becomes Jesus, the caring helper; Jesus, the wise teacher; Jesus, the opener of new possibilities; Jesus, the welcomer of all. We all want to be like this Jesus. This plays well in the media. You can put that on a poster. But Jesus, the crucified? Jesus, the shamed? Jesus, the criminal? Jesus, the mocked? Jesus, the persecuted? Jesus, the fool? This isn’t really the best way to “make friends and influence people.” And it doesn’t stop there - Jesus wants us, his followers, to take up a cross and join him . . . voluntarily? It’s scandalous! It’s crazy! It’s just flat out shameful! And yet, it’s the Gospel. See, I have this issue with the sanitized versions of the cross I find in many churches. My favorite crucifix was in a little junk shop in Asheville, NC (I still kick myself for not buying it). It was made from a couple of old worn railroad ties. The figure of Jesus was shaped from two pieces of old rusted steel, curved out at the head, hands, and feet and held together by a rusty old bolt. It was ragged. It was not pretty, and yet, O that old rugged cross, so despised by the world, Has a wondrous attraction for me . . . So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross, Till my trophies at last I lay down; I will cling to the old rugged cross, And exchange it some day for a crown. Prayer: God, help me this Lent to let go of my pretty, sanitized crosses - of my easy faith that costs me little. Help me to take up my shame, my guilt, my foolishness, my embarrassment, my cross and follow after you. Amen.
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Today's Scripture focus: Psalm 32 A couple of weeks ago, I was sitting in a small room on the third floor of the west tower in the Buncombe County Detention Facility. It was a Thursday morning around 10:45 and we were there as part of our church's prison and jail ministry. At the end of our Bible study, we always try to leave room for the members of the group to ask questions or bring up topics that they may have been thinking about during the week. Aaron, one of the regular members of our study, had been very courageous that day, confessing that he often felt lost in the Bible studies. He didn't have a lot of background in the church or in the Bible and often didn't know what people were talking about, couldn't really follow the conversation, and didn't really know how to grow in his faith. As we talked about the importance of prayer, I mentioned that there are times that I find prayer very difficult. During those times, I often turn to the Psalms because they served as the Book of Worship for the Hebrew people (containing songs and prayers for use in worship). I told the group that I sometimes use the psalms as a starting place for my prayers, praying them aloud until my own words come. Aaron was shocked. "That's what I'm talking about," he said. "I had no idea that the psalms were songs and prayers and that the Hebrew people used them in their worship. That is really helpful to know." This story came to me as I was reading today's scripture. I have a tendency at times to read the songs and prayers of the psalms in a very 21st Century American manner (i.e. very individualistic) - as though these were strictly the psalmist's personal prayers to God (or, when I'm feeling really narcissistic, my own personal prayers). I read today's psalm and I immediately think of times of personal confession - admitting my sins to God. I think of the countless times I've gone to God and admitted the same thing as the psalmist, "I will confess my transgressions to the LORD.” It truly does make sense to me to understand this Lenten journey as a wandering in the wilderness of my own sin and rebellion . . . a time to confront myself and agree with God that I "have fallen short of God's glory." And yet . . . And yet, I have to remember that these psalms were not only the private worship book of the people, but the public worship book as well. In reading this psalm together, it was not just an acknowledgment that I, as an individual, have sinned, but that the community has sinned (I'm not going to go into detail on that because I included it in the accompanying booklet that goes with this blog. For more on this, see the section in the Lent book titled "Confession" on page five - you can access the digital version of the book here). At its root, confession is a deeply relational practice. While the "justice" system in the United States is structured so that people are convicted for breaking a law of the land or of the state, the biblical picture is that sin is a break in relationships - our relationship with God and our relationship with one another. Confession, likewise, must be understood in such a relational manner. When we confess, we are acknowledging that have wronged one another, we have broken the sacred trust of our relationship, and we have damaged our relationship with God. Confession is an act of seeking healing, forgiveness, and reconciliation as a community (with one another and with God). As a result of this corporate confession, we find that divine forgiveness is no private affair either. As we confess our sins to one another and to God, we also become the mediators of God's forgiveness. What did Jesus say in the gospels? He said, "Truly, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven." (Matthew 18:18 ESV) Isn't this the essence of community, confession, and repentance? As we loose one another from the obligations and guilt with which sin has imprisoned us, God will likewise loose them in heaven. As we bind ourselves to one another in love and reconciliation, God will likewise bind us together into the beloved community, the body of Christ on Earth. Yes, we will have to say confession is a courageous act. It is not for sissies. It is for those who are daring enough to live into a radical community of reconciliation and healing - one where we dare to lay our sins bare before our brothers and sisters, only to hear these words echo in our ears, "I forgive you. I love you." Prayer: God, give me eyes so that I may see the truth of my sin. Give me a broken heart over the relationships I've damaged. Give me strength to confess those sins to you and to those in my community. And give us healing and forgiveness in Jesus' name. Amen. Today's Scripture focus: Romans 5:12-19 I am glad for second chances. We live in a culture that teaches us the following pieces of "wisdom":
As I read today's passage, I get the distinct impression that Paul is saying to us, there is good news - Adam gets a second chance in Jesus. Where disobedience came through Adam, obedience comes through Jesus. Where death came in through Adam, life will come in through Jesus. Where sin came through Adam, righteousness will come through Jesus. Where judgment came through Adam, grace and forgiveness will come through Jesus. Jesus, the "second Adam," comes to redeem the fallen Adam and all those that have been stained by his failure. It got me to thinking, though - what about Eve? Eve was Adam's wife. As the scripture says, a man will leave his mother and father and cleave (be united) to his wife. Following that train of thought, we might ask "Who would be this equivalent in Jesus' life?" A quick look at scripture reveals a striking answer. In the letter to the Ephesians, we find these words: Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word, so that he might present the church to himself in splendor, without spot or wrinkle or any such thing, that she might be holy and without blemish. (Ephesians 5:25-27 ESV, emphasis added) Did you catch that? If Jesus is the "second Adam" then the church is the "second Eve." It is as though Genesis were repeating itself. Adam is placed into a deep sleep (a death, maybe) and from his broken body Eve is drawn out. God breathes the breath of life into this new being (the word for Holy Spirit means "breath" or "wind" - see John 20:19-23 or Acts 2:1-13). Eve is united with Adam. You see, I believe that the church is intended to be the perfect fulfillment of God's divine plan for Adam and Eve, even for all creation - "And they were naked and not ashamed." "Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth." "She is [Eve,] the mother of all living." Now, I have been accused of being an idealist more than once. I know that you don't have to look very far to see that Church has fallen far short of this great opportunity. Divisions, squabbles, wars, violence, hatred, pain, prejudice, fear - all these can be traced back to the Church. But it doesn't change the fact: the Church is the bride of Christ, who "gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her, having cleansed her by the washing of water with the word." Did you catch that last part? You see, that is what I'm finding in my life this Lent - cleansing from the word of God. I need to hear God speak these truths over me: "I love you. I created you. I accept you. I want you. I desire to be close and intimate with you. I long for you." I think that if we could fully grasp this identity as Christ's bride - sanctified, cleansed, the fulfillment of Eve's fallenness - we just might be on the road to making it a reality. We might be fruitful in the ways of justice and peace in the world. We might multiply forgiveness, reconciliation, love, honor, respect, and healing. We might begin to embody God's shalom. We might be naked - not in our clothing choices, but in being transparent with one another, taking off all the masks and pretentions - and have no shame. We might just find that we are becoming the bride of Christ. We might just find that we are becoming the Second Eve. Prayer: God, it is a high calling to be a part of your bride. We confess that we have fallen dreadfully short of living up to that call. We confess that we have succumbed to the temptation to live by the culture of this world - hiding behind power, manipulation, fear, and hatred. Help us to come to you. Wash us with the water of your word. Let us stand before you, naked and unashamed, for we have been made holy by our Groom. Amen. 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. |
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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